#my joint pain thinks its a nice day for flaring

[disagigglebilities]

As someone who has heat intolerance and several chronic illnesses that get worse with heat, I hate not having control over the thermostat

[its-time-to-write]

I AM RUSHING TO GET THIS IN!!!

Friends to lovers maybe with a disabled reader?? Maybe she's someone he knew from back home who he runs into at a diner she's working at now. Maybe she feels like he abandoned her and her life fell apart when he moved away?

ANyway love you lots!!!

warning: there’s a lot of parentheses (it’s a choice) and a lot of swearing (I do what I want)

reader’s dialogue/feelings are based off my own experiences so if u read this and are like ??? don’t worry about it. i’m just projecting. the chronic illness is unspecified.

LOVE U BABE

you’ll probably date her

It’s hard enough growing up in a council estate in a shit part of Manchester (although you’d staunchly defend there’s no such thing as a shit part of Manchester) but it’s harder with fucking chronic illness. It manifests is clumsiness (joint pain), fidgeting (widespread pain), and bruising (skin problems).

Not to mention the fucking tiredness.

School is complete shit all the time, and life is complete shit all the time too. 

Okay fine, not all the time, but a lot of the time.

There are bright spots in between flare ups, bright spots that consist of learning how to bake with Simon (Jamie’s stepdad) and petting Roy (Jamie’s cat) and watching horribly cheesy movies with Georgie (Jamie’s mum).

Oh, and Jamie. 

You’ve known Jamie since birth, probably, when your mum brought you home and Jamie sat down on the saggy couch, aged two, and asked, “When does it open its eyes?”

He took it upon himself to look after you, magnanimous in a way he would not have been if you were actually related to him (thank god). When he starts to get tired of you, he can go back home to his own room and his own mum and hug her tight without having to share her with anyone else.

When you’re three and he’s five, you get a diagnosis. Jamie says, “That’s shit,” when your mum tells him you can’t play, and you’re told that you echo him with your first swear. 

“That’s shit,” comes your tiny voice from the sofa, face down and covered in bags of frozen peas.

Your mum is too surprised by the first words you’ve said all day, that she a) doesn’t scold you and b) doesn’t catch Jamie as he slips by her into the house. He sits on the floor and starts to tell you about primary school and helps your mum when it’s time to put the peas back in the slightly-broken freezer.

It goes like that for years. 

When you’re feeling well, you kick a football around with Jamie. When you’re feeling poorly, he climbs the steps to your room and tells you things, anything at all to distract you from the pain ripping through your body.

It’s nice. It makes you feel, like, someone cares, almost? Or someone understands? Or maybe the world isn’t carrying on without you, that a piece of it does stop when you do, and maybe you aren’t entirely alone.

You first realize you like Jamie (like-like) when you’re twelve and it feels like ice-cold water has been poured on your head, but not exactly in an unwelcoming way.

A shock, sure, but a soothing one.

You don’t tell him, but you think he probably knows. He’s not an idiot, he’s had girls swooning all over him since he was eight. 

(And your mum knows, and she and Georgie talk, and Georgie tells Jamie to be extra nice to you and maybe a little bit careful not to be mean about it.)

He carefully slips on your small bed when you’re fifteen and he’s sixteen (almost seventeen, but it’s the one time of the year when you’re only a year apart) and balances on his side so he can look at you.

“You’ll be alright?” he asks, and you don’t have to ask what he’s talking about.

He’s going to play for Manchester (City, not United, and not the Premier League Team), and it’s all you’ve been able to think about.

You don’t say anything, so he gingerly pats your head. It messes up your hair, but it also feels like tiny electric sparks are shooting through your body (not the pain kind).

He lays there for a long time, whispering about secondary school and football and making enough money to buy houses for everyone he’s ever loved, you included.

(He promises he’ll call all the time.)

—

He does call, until he doesn’t.

Some days are good, some days are bad, and now the bad days feel like they’re your fault.

“You’re overdoing it,” your boss says, “You need to slow down or you’ll be out sick tomorrow.”

You bite back the words I’m doing my fucking best, and just nod. Fuck him, and fuck this. You can work just the same as everyone else, pain be damned. There are fucking bills to pay and yeah, this shit hurts, but what the fuck are you supposed to do. Benefits aren’t enough at the moment, and it’s been a solid two years since you’ve given up on waiting for a knight in shining armor (even if that knight is in the Premier League now, just like he always swore he’d be).

Your boss is fucking right the fucker, but you push through on Friday (it’s fucking shit) and crash on Saturday (it’s even more fucking shit).

Your mum places bags of frozen fruit on your joints, rearranging the pillows on the floor. You’ve long since outgrown the couch, instead needing more space. Your dad moved the coffee table, saying, “It’s on its last legs anyway,” and the space you called a living room now became a treatment room of sorts.

Georgie and Simon come over all the time for family dinner (potluck-style) and they are comfortable enough step over you or sit down on the floor to talk.

It sounds worse than it is, but when they’re in the flat it feels better, all warm and glowy, like things are right.

Nights are the worst, with the moving around trying to get comfortable, so you’re awake bright and early on Sunday morning. Early enough to sit on a bench in front of the estates, bundled up in your duvet and puffing cold air out into the sky.

You hear footsteps splashing down the tunnel, someone on their way home after a long night. Or maybe it’s one of the many kids who like to sneak out to play footie in hopes that they’ll be the next Jamie Tartt.

He’s not that great, you want to tell them, except you don’t even believe it yourself. He is that great, he’ll always be that great, and you should have fucking known that he was going to fuck off and fuck a gorgeous, carefree model and not you. 

(Not that you want to fuck him. Well, you do, but you also want to, like, hold his hand.)

It was always going to end up this way, you should have known not to actually have real feelings for him, you should have left it at a childhood crush and not let yourself believe something could actually happen.

The footsteps pass you by, and it’s a man in a baseball hat and an awful silk-print tracksuit carrying a Gucci travel bag.

He’s out of place here, and you wonder if he’s lost. But no, he strides up to Georgie and Simon’s door like he owns the place, pulls out a key, and walks right in. It’s only after the door swings shut behind him that you realize it’s Jamie.

“Oh shit,” you whisper, clouds accompanying the words.

(You won’t admit it, but the surprise has rebooted your system a little bit, aching limbs forgotten for a moment.)

—

“This is shit,” you say as you lean on your fucking cane of all things. “It’s one thing if it’s Simon and Georgie, it’s another fucking thing if it’s Jamie fucking Tartt.”

“That’s a lot of fucking fucks,” your father says sagely, ignoring the glare you send his way and saying ow as your mum swats the back of his head.

“It’s only two fucks and one shit,” you tell him. “And I’m not going.”

“Then I’ll tell them to come over here,” your mum says placidly. 

Absolutely not. Also-fucking-lutely not.

“I am going to my room,” you say with dignity, turning to go back up the stairs.

Your dad waves, the prick. “Have fun,” he says helpfully. You flip him off without looking, and you know for a fact he’s doing it back. You know he’ll be up in an hour with a plate of dinner and sneak you early desert.

There is no fucking way you’re seeing Jamie after two years like this.

The cane is a relatively new development and sure, it’s helpful with walking sometimes, but a cane? The fuck were the doctors thinking when they suggested this? You’re barely twenty, not a damn convalescent. 

By the time you make it to your room, the doorbell’s ringing and voices are filling the flat. You reach for your bottle of pills and carefully tap the right amount into your hand (even though you know there is no drug on earth to calm down your traitor heart).

You lay down flat on your back with no immediate plans to move. You find your playlist and slip an earbud in, letting the music take you somewhere else. Somewhere where you don’t hurt for no reason, where you can focus like you’re supposed to, where you aren’t so damn tired all the time.

There’s a tap on your door.

“Come in,” you call to your dad, except the door opens and it’s Jamie, no longer in his stupid outfit from earlier, but in a nice jumper that you think might be Simon’s.

He smiles like he didn’t abandon you and sits down on the floor. You hand him the other earbud (it’s better than talking) and let Stevie Nicks croon in your ear.

“How’ve you been?” he asks (the prick) and you have half a mind to ignore him. 

“It’s been two years,” you remind him. “Try again.”

Jamie looks stricken. “Right, yeah, I know, it’s just- I’ve been busy.”

“Yup,” you reply. “Me too.”

(The cane is leaning on the wall by the door, and you need Jamie to not notice it.)

Jamie points to the cane. “That’s new.”

“Yep,” you say because it’s not the same as yup. It has a different vowel. It’s a different word, you’re having a civil conversation, your brain is making sentences just fine.

“I’m sorry,” he says. He sounds like he means it, which is worse. “I went through some shit, you know? It don’t excuse it, but… got a new gaffer, Keeley dumped me, then I got sent back to City right when I were getting better. It’s been shit. I’ve been shit,” he corrects.

Your arm’s falling asleep so you shift, trying to stifle a groan.

Jamie’s up in a moment, all concern. “You alright?”

“Clearly,” you gasp out as savagely as possible. “Fuck off, alright? I don’t need your pity, not now, so go find some other charity case.”

Fucking flare-ups. Fucking Jamie. Fucking chronic illness and its fucking lack of a cure.

Jamie looks like he’s been slapped. To be fair, you would if you could get in the right position.

“You’re not charity,” he says, and unfortunately (and again) he sounds like he fucking means it.

“Okay,” you say. “That’s fucking mint. Thanks for staying such a good friend all these years, it’s been real fucking fun. I’ve got to lie here in discomfort, so I imagine you’ll be leaving now. Goodbye.”

Jamie stares at you a moment, then leaves.

—

It’s a good day. It’s a good day and it’s raining and you don’t even care because it’s a good day. Nothing can ruin it (this isn’t a premonition) not even stupid Jamie showing up out of nowhere.

(It’s a little bit of a premonition.)

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing he says when he turns up in his mum’s kitchen, an hour before he’s supposed to be home. You’re supposed to be long gone by now, but you and Simon have cheese pinwheels in the oven that aren’t done for another twenty minutes, so now you’re stuck here until then.

“Fucking mint,” you say, just like the night before. Simon freezes but Georgie just rolls her eyes. 

“We’ll be in the other room, loves,” she says. “Jamie, don’t be a fucking idiot.”

You tell him, “I’m having a good day, I’d appreciate it if you didn’t fucking ruin it.”

“You’re not a charity case,” he says, and you think maybe he is broken, but like a record is broken, not like a teacup.

Jamie says, “I weren’t lying about going through shit,” and you snap (like a rubber band, not a bone).

“Big fucking deal, Jamie, you’ve been going through shit since you were six years old. I’ve been going through shit too, in case you didn’t fucking notice. It’s not an excuse to be a shitty person or a shitty friend,” you burst out.

“I didn’t say it as an excuse, it’s just a fucking reason,” Jamie shouts back. “Jesus Christ, you’re not the only person with fucking problems! You’re allowed to be mad shitty sometimes, I didn’t ever complain, so why’s it fucking different for me?”

You open your mouth to tell him why it’s fucking different, except you don’t actually have a reason. How many times did you sit with him as he iced his knee, or his face, or his arm while you iced your back, or your chest, or your legs?

Pain is pain, your fucking government-issued therapist had said. And shit if she isn’t right.

“You abandoned me,” you reply, voice small. “You left me for Keeley and I wouldn’t have minded, I really wouldn’t have. I just wanted to talk to you.”

Jamie rubs his face with a sigh. “Didn’t know how to talk to you, after. I knew you liked me since we were kids and I liked you too, so it felt fucking… weird. Dunno. But, I was with her because it was what I was supposed to do and she was mad fit and fucking funny. I’ve had a crush on her for fucking… ages.”

“Right,” you say, feeling one millimeter tall, “I get that.”

Jamie shakes his head and says, “Nah, you don’t.” (The fuck does he mean? He can’t read your mind).

“You don’t get it,” he continues. “Had a crush on her, didn’t I? Not the same as you. You were proper in love with me, and I…” he trails off.

“He was proper in love with you too,” comes Georgie’s voice.

Jamie turns bright red and you do too, and it’s like you’re kids again and he’s in your bed and you’re trying not to think about how close his lips are to yours.

“That’s… well, that’s…” You try and fail to come up with the right words.

“Yeah,” Jamie says, still blushing. “Yeah, suppose I was. Couldn’t do anything about it, then. Could do something about it now. If you’ve forgiven me.” He says it casually, like he won’t mind if you tell him to go away out of his own mum’s house and never return, when in reality he’ll burn up and die if you do.

“I will. I do,” you say. “I’m sorry too, I am. I can be a prick sometimes.”

Jamie shrugs, but he’s smiling a little. “I’m a prick all the time, love. Fucking… fucked childhood or some shit.”

“Some shit,” you echo. “So, proper in love with me, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jamie says. “Proper. Wrote my first name with your last on every bit of paper I could get me hands on, didn’t I?”

“Fuck off,” you say with a grin.

“It’s true,” Simon shouts from the sofa. “Found some bits when I was cleaning one day.”

Wait. Simon didn’t move in until Jamie was a teenager. That means… 

“Oh my god, were you fifteen when you were writing that? You weren’t even a kid anymore! What the fuck Jamie, you had it bad!” you tease.

“Fuck off, it was just a stupid joke,” he says defensively.

“Uh huh, sounds like,” you say as you go to wrap your arms around him. “You liked me.”

“Fuck’s sake,” he grumbles, leaning down to kiss your head. He’s never going to fucking live this down.

[crippleprophet]

looking through your AS doc ive had a bit of an "oh" moment... it explains me and my symptoms so well. i dont really know what to do next, because i have a feeling going through the nhs is going to get me nowhere.

one question: do you know if theres a link between RA and AS? my grandmother had RA and i was wondering if there could be a familial/ genetic link or if its just chance

(thanks so much for your info on AS!!!!)

:)

thank you so much, i’m so so glad it’s been helpful for you!! i actually have the unique experience of going through both the us american healthcare system and the NHS due to studying abroad, so this was my experience:

US (note that i had a really good rheumatologist, my gf looked at reviews for every doctor in the state)

i & my doctor thought from my symptoms i had AS

diagnostic blood tests for ESR, CRP, HLA-B27, RF, ANA, complete blood count, complete metabolic panel

pre-medication blood tests for hepatitis A & C, HIV, tuberculosis

urine panel

chest x-ray

MRI of spine and SI joint

after getting these tests and while waiting on results, my rheum put me on 20mg prednisone daily for a week.

results: elevated ESR outside normal range, elevated CRP within normal range, low vitamin D. everything else was normal. negative x-ray; MRI showed herniated disk but not inflammation.

because my bloodwork showed inflammation and the prednisone helped my pain and fatigue, my rheum said my pain was definitely inflammatory, diagnosed me with AS, and prescribed me Humira. i started out with injections every other week and then increased to weekly after 3 months when i still had a lot of pain in other joints. occasionally received short-term 20mg prednisone daily during flares.

NHS

got set up with a GP in mid-September, had appointment in early October for referral to continue Humira. they referred me urgently and because i already had an AS diagnosis and had been on 20mg prednisone as-needed before, they gave me some prednisone for flares (although definitely not enough to last the wait time).

received a rheumatology appointment for February 4. they said they needed to confirm the diagnosis and put me on etoricoxib (NSAID not available in the US).

got switched to celecoxib (NSAID) after 9 days because the first med didn’t do anything and gave me bad side effects (GI upset, vertigo). new med was not very effective but helped slightly and didn’t give me side effects.

blood tests for CRP, HLA-B27, hepatitis A & C, HIV, tuberculosis. chest x-ray; MRI of spine and SI joint. same results as before.

i received a phone appointment in April and they said because there wasn’t inflammation in my MRI, i was in remission and any pain i was experiencing was “leftover” from previous inflammation, but i was no longer inflamed. this was obviously bullshit because i was in the worst pain of my life and wholly unable to function. they kept me on celecoxib and referred me to physical therapy, and didn’t do anything else. i survived until i got back to the US by taking prednisone that i acquired extralegally.

so you could either try to go through the NHS and be prepared to go private later if you didn’t meet their strict diagnostic criteria (they follow the NICE guidelines) or fundraise etc to go private without going through the NHS if the waitlist was too long. personally i think it’s worth considering going through the NHS until you’ve gotten imaging and bloodwork so you don’t have to pay for that, but it depends on your time-sensitivity. i also don’t know how common it is for private UK doctors to contradict the NHS in their diagnosis.

we don’t know enough about how AS and RA work to know how they might be connected, just that certain things (mainly rheumatoid factor versus HLA-B27) are associated differently, but seronegative RA is definitely possible as is HLA-B27— AS. as with the overlap between a lot of autoimmune diseases, some people have both AS and RA, although if the true rate of comorbidity is known i haven’t been able to find it. anecdotally my grandmother had RA, too!

thank you again and best of luck to you 💕💕 feel free to send me another ask or DM me if there’s anything else i can help with!

[bishiglomper]

Today's a bit sucky. Shopping and lunch day. I wore both braces which helped the general ache of my back but I had twingy-stabbing pain shooting up my back. Like gasping mid-step kind of pain while not quite a spasm. Also I think the chiropractor agrivated more than he helped. My shoulders are doing this "joints stiffly sliding in and out of their sockets weird" thing. Not really a pop but I'm super aware of it. And my hips are aggravated. They didn't lock up but they got stiff and achy. I took a long nap when we got home. And afterward everything is stiff and achy. Getting up is painful. Lots of growling involved. Stairs are painful but they were hard to begin with, this winter.

When I told my aunt how much weight i lost she's like "but don't you feel so much better? Your knees must be doing better" and I just had to say I dont know because i didn't want to be all "No, Susan, my body's still a piece of shit." 👀 I'd prefer if all my problems were there just because I'm fat but reality seldom works that way despite how people feel about being fat.

I was hoping my general malaise would at least have improved but the tramadol I took the other day did a better job of that than me just being lighter. I was wondering if maybe my fibro flares were better. They might be, I still get waves of it though. But that has phases too.

The other sucky thing today was we went to pay the clinic so mom could get seen. I gave mom the money they asked for as a down payment before getting seen and after, she would be put on a payment plan.

But then they told us the downpayment would be over 300, not 180 like the bill said. And that is on a $500 total bill. Its complete bullshit that a down payment is over half the bill total. 🙄😒

So they still won't see mom. But we found out they could refer her to a different clinic, so at least she will be able to be seen. Now we need to find her a doctor who isnt gonna be a total bitch. Mom's had some dragon ladies. I dont blame the woman for not wanting to deal with her medical issues if they treat her like an obstinate meth head. 😒

I asked my doctor for recs but all the docs at the local clinic are new and she doesnt know them. Mom doesnt want to deal with having a primary an hour away.

On a better note tho, I stopped by goodwill and got a nice roomy frame for my playbills. And some posterboard. I thought i was gonna have to make a shadow box, but this frame is extra deep because it had an inner layered cardboard frame. So there's room for playbills and my streamers without them being real smooshed. I'm very excited. I'm hoping this project will distract me from the blanket i want to make. 👀

[semischarmed]

Chrysalis, Part 3

This was the day. The tremors have only intensified. I feel myself tearing at the arm that I had fully bonded with Kyle. If I don’t act soon that’s all that’s gonna be left of me in him. So I decided it had to be today. I’ve been shivering all over too, probably in fear or anticipation? Probably both.

By no means was Red ready. He had a natural fighting streak so it wasn’t gonna be a smooth process. As prepared as I was, the odds were stacked against me. This body’s connection with me has degraded significantly faster than I had anticipated. Had I gone with anyone else, I’d be permanently one with Kyle by now, but of course it had to start with Red. No use crying over spilled milk. Taking Red would be the struggle of a lifetime. Had it just been me in my old body, I would have given up outright. But I was Kyle now, and Kyle does Not. Give. Up.

———

I fight a long, close game in the early afternoon and we barely eke out a win- mostly thanks to me, despite my current condition. I hug my teammates as our sweat and smells coalesce in the blazing sun. We bake uncomfortably long in the heat. They really were great teammates. Kyle basically did a 180 in their eyes, being far more comfortable, far more sociable, far more filthy- yet they accept me regardless. I breath them in, remarking on them and myself for possibly the last time, before making my way back to my dorm. 

I stop halfway as I am instantly crippled in a massive tremor that forces me to the ground. I retch. This was too tenuous, too delicate. There would be no time for any detours. I immediately run for Sig Chi.

———

Red wakes in a cold sweat in his bed, in the filtered light of the moon, to the image of his naked little bro- to the image of me jacking off to him. Of course he had to also be a light sleeper.  

“Heyyy Big Bro” I whisper menacingly, licking my lips. Fuck. Ok, ok, gotta improvise.

“Kyle? Kyle! What the fuck?! How did you get here? And, oh fuck... Jeeezus, is that you? Dude you fucking reek” I could tell he was trying to categorize the smell, but I quickly correct him. 

“That’s right I fucking reek, this cute little meat-suit had a game today. This is what my team smells like, this is what a man smells like,” I rush up to the naked Red, who instinctively recoils and pulls his sheets up. I lean in to my speechless big bro, sticking my face close to his, bringing our foreheads together. Despite his overall friendliness, he was a dangerous one. I’ve never met so much resistance in a person. I could show him no weakness.

I grab his head with my hands, pointing it downward to our bare chests, so we can both smell our combined odor. “This is what we’ll smell like”.

Red attempts to defuse the situation. “Ok, ok dude, great prank” he laughs, obviously disturbed. “But I- “ Before he can continue, I smear a bit of precum over his lips. ”I can’t wait to make you mine... big bro” I moan. I cup his sweaty left pec with my hand, giving a slight squeeze. His nipples, rock hard. “Kyle, get the fuck off me! The fuck is this?!” He pushes me off his bed with a force I did not expect. Still, my Big Bro Red- being the nice guy he was- made sure to only push me safely into a pile of old clothes. With the parts of me that were already inside him, I restrict any further movement. He breaks free from my grasp in small blips of resistance.

Red struggles in vain to leave his bed and I focus my hold on his body further. “You know, I was wondering how much cum it would take for your body to start accepting mine...” I trail. “Kyle, what the fuck are you talking about... what is this?!” He again struggles to move against his invisible restraints. I grab his water bottle and lift it up near him, giving it a little shake, motioning to it with my head. “Cmon, there’s no way you haven’t noticed... How’d you like the exclusive taste of me?” He shakes his head, utterly revolted, horrified, while a tent begins to form in his bedsheets. He looks down stating “no, no, that.... that’s not me... Kyle, this is...” I smile, amused, at the situation. Half-truth. For one he was wrong, that body of his was most definitely turned on. But I concede, if anything, that it was probably the result of his constant exposure to my seed moreso than his actual feelings for his little bro in the frat. Though his body had not been fully primed to accept me, I decide to continue layering on the mental damage, to better ease me in for the upcoming fight.

Since Red had so rudely interrupted my little session, I decide to continue where I left off, pumping my meat in front of him as I tear off his bedsheets.

“Oh Red, oh god Red! My roommate... he-he snuck inside me and ah fuck he took me... he stole me... poisoned my insides with himself... twisted me- look at me when I’m fucking talking Red- Look at how I wear his cute smile. Look how his body, his muscles, his feelings bend to my will. I make a great Kyle don’t I? Look how good I am at playing with my dick. Well I am Kyle, so of course I’m a great fucking Kyle.” Before I finish, I slip just my hand inside his- its veins flare up at my intrusion but I maintain the control of our now-shared appendage, bringing it up so we can examine it together. I wink at him before I seductively suck each of our fingers while I push my arm into his further. He watches in shock as he feels every motion. “But, you know Red, you know my roommate? That asshole is pretty greedy, asked me who else he’d look great in... and I told him I thought he’d make a great Red. I told him we’d be great at wearing your skin.” With our joint hand, I continue to pump my hard on, reveling in Red’s confusion and disgust in the process. I grab his dick, bringing it next to mine and letting him pleasure us both at the same time with his rough hand. He sweats as he continues to control his emotion, attempting to remain stoic. On the other hand, I am reduced to moans and whimpers- a sight that probably looks incredibly off coming from Kyle. His lip trembles and he lets out a soft grunt and a massive wave of pleasure hits us both. We begin to feel the sensations from each other’s dick in the process. Our breaths are shallow, and I look into my future eyes. 

“I-I’m a special case though. This?” I gesture to my own body with my free hand, as I explode, splashing a little on Red’s lips and lot on myself. Red explodes soon after and he stifles a moan. I now drag our shared hand all over my body, smearing and mixing our cum together over my stolen abs and his. “Kyle is fully mine. Forever. And you’re gonna make sure we stay that way.”

I raise Red’s now-slick, now-possessed hand again for him to examine. Veins rise as it struggles to resist my control, but I double down, giving a mean smirk and balling our shared hand into a fist. “If was just possessing him, we wouldn’t be able to then possess your hand. This? This is proof that he and I are one.” I follow by using that hand to squeeze my dick and Red’s together, until they coalesce into just his. Red is in shock at the events that have just unfolded, and I intend to use that situation to my full advantage. “No hard feelings big bro, you’re cute and all but I’m his forever home”. I lace my knees beneath his and smash my lower half into him. I feel his body clench and cringe until it is forced to accept mine. “Still, thank you for being there for me. When I realized we needed a new chrysalis to complete me... I knew it could only be through my Big Bro Red. I knew I could depend on your hot bod.” Our legs are one.

In one swift motion, I also slam my sticky wet chest into his, causing him to yelp in disgust and horror. I take the dribbling of my cum on his chin and, using our combined hand, I shove my seed into his mouth. I keep our fingers jammed into his mouth, making sure he gets a good taste of some fresh Kyle cum and his own beefy fingers. “Eat that shit up. I want that taste still in my mouth when I’m inside you” I moan. I snake my free arm into his other bicep. It shivers, glistening in the moonlight, covered in perspiration. Vibrating, his arm yields control to its new master- to me. These arms belong to Kyle now. “God we’re so close babe,” I moan. By now, only the upper edge of my chest and head are sticking out of his. I test out the new arms I have in my possession. They’re far larger than Kyle’s so I decide to stop here for a bit and revel in maneuvering my new sweaty biceps. I make Red flex for them me, and in straining movements, he is forced to show me what they can do. I moan, as my free head falls on his shoulder, drained from the process. 

“Honestly, I only settled on your ass cause you’re the next Pledgemaster. I knew you’d be perfect for slipping on some of next year’s pledges, perfect for making great fucking puppets out of this frat.” I mumble to his shoulder before looking back up at him. “But now? After getting to know you a little more? I think want something a little more. I want a taste of that ginger dick. I want a taste of that best friend of yours. Jeremy- he’s fucking hot- I bet he’s delicious, but I bet he’d be even fucking hotter and taste even fucking better from his best friend’s mouth. And when I’m inside him, wearing him as my new puppet, I want it to be because you stuffed me in there.” Emotionally, I think I have him defeated. His body more freely yields to me and my becoming Kyle is almost finally complete.

I intend to continue spouting weird shit to spook him but the part of me still outside of Red slips in a wave of cosmic shock, partially removed from Kyle. I shake violently in pain. Shit. Before I can recover, Red picks up on it and begins to fight me with his body all over. He flares to life and I feel his all out attack on me. “Kyle, Kyle, you gotta fight this. Cmon man, fight your roommate!” I feel my grasp over him slipping. 

“Fuck off” I growl, losing my composure. “He likes us this way. Wants us as one permanently-forever-together because I am Kyle. You wouldn’t understand. Here, have a taste of your little’s hot mouth.” I lean up and kiss him unexpectedly, digging my tongue into his mouth, merging my lips with his. 

He tries to scream, only to be stifled to a  “mmphhph”. I glide my tongue over his, wrestling it into submission before jamming it inside of his. I stifle a moan as our tongues become one. I slam my face ever closer to him, until we both breath and speak from the same mouth, until at last we can only see each other’s eyes. I give him a quick wink before finishing my possession and locking myself inside my human chrysalis.

Red’s body continues to light with tremors as the fight inside drags on. I make sure to cum a little more inside him, to layer more of myself and cement him forever mine. His eyes roll to the back of his head and his mouth opens unwarranted as he settles the last of his hold over his body to fight me. Goddamn he is tenacious. After what feels like hours, his body finally yields to me. He shakes viciously as the universe begins its correction. Red collapses onto the ground. In Red’s core I feel the last of Kyle’s essence integrate into my own. I feel the permanence of our connection. Nothing would ever take me out of Kyle again. I was Kyle- past, present and future. Natural order had been restored. Inside Red I felt safe, secure, complete.

I feel Red’s sweet release. He’s at peace, at bliss, since I can finally connect to his deepest parts, rearranging him into my perfect vessel. He would be mine forever. Then, I feel the fight from his mind. He grasps his body again, reiterating, begging for “Kyle” to break free from my control.

“I am here” I stated as Red, but only Kyle’s voice comes out. I break out of my shell. My naked form expels itself from Red, covered our juices, covered in my aura of forever. I close my eyes, breathing in the dank night air in Red’s room. He’s right, I fucking reek, but it felt good to smell it as a permanent Kyle. It felt good to stand with my permanently athletic legs. It felt good to use that word. Permanent.

Of course, I also left a lot of my seed in Red. Rearranged his insides so they’d better fit me. I watch expectantly at the soon-to-be reborn Red. Control over his body lights up in my mind. Red was mine. 

I examine him as Kyle, playfully humming in his voice softly while I circle -around him, lightly tracing the outlines of his muscles- of my new acquisition. I will him to give me another gun-show. His body complies. Fuck. Yes. My Big Bro’s hot ginger ass was truly mine to control. “Cmon babe, you have to admit...” I trail as Kyle. “I wear you well”. As Red, my faces dances in ecstatic joy before giving myself a wink.

Red’s body giggles as I assert more control of his frame and do some small seductive dances in front of my main body. “Yeah... all me” I moan as Red- though only Kyle’s voice comes out of him. Something else was still missing. “But I think this needs a little more.” I say out loud. I worship my new self with the two new bodies I control. In the midst of my little play session, I feel Red’s mind stir within me. There it was.

I feel him inside me, digging through my mind to look for his friend, to pull Kyle out of my grasp. I feel him desperately claw his way around and decide to humor him, giving him full access to me. In increasing anguish, he pulls to my corners, digs through the depths of my mind trying to find a separate Kyle to rescue him from his roommate’s clutches. Instead, he finds no separation, no distinction between my old self and Kyle’s. When he digs, looking for Kyles memories, he instead finds them interlaced with my own. In the physical world, Red’s face paints itself with a deranged smile. I surround Red’s Psyche “Told you he was special... he’s mine forever... don’t worry though, big bro. You didn’t lose Kyle. I’m right here. You won’t be alone. I’ll be right here, inside you too”. I briefly lose control of Red’s body as I continue with my all out assault on his mind. Red’s face cringes in pain as I bombard his sense of self, embedding me inside his psyche, corrupting my Big Bro with my perversions. He briefly laughs sadistically, yielding to his newfound gifts, yielding to the pieces of me I put inside him. He moans, wrapping more of my psyche into himself “fuck yeah, babe. Keep going, I’m a good Big Bro... I can take it” before shaking his head in anger “fuck you Kyle!” The switch inside Red flips back and he resumes into moans and filthy whispers about me wearing his skin. He again snaps back and punches the nearby wall. “FUCK!” he shouts. God he was strong. I already had his body, I already had his mind, I already had Red by all accounts, yet through pure resolve alone he resists me. God I couldn’t wait to have that will of steel as my own. In any case, It looks like his body’s inclinations just needs a final little push. 

I assert my new dominance over Red’s body, slapping my Kyle-self in the face, before finally speaking with Red’s voice, using it for the first time. Just controlling his voice was invigorating. “You sick fuck, Kyle. Look what you did to me, what you did in me. Toppled your Big Bro Red, conquered me, just like that. Wore my ass like suit and then left your squirmy little pieces inside” I lace his words with sex. Coming out of Red, out of my Big Bro, it feels almost blasphemous. Fuck yeah, Red feels great to be in. This body is amazing. I received the slap in Kyle with a moan. “Fuck yeah, big bro, it feels good doesn’t it? You like being my little puppet, don’t you? You want me in there, wearing you like a glove...” As Red I twirl my new fiery locks with my new, thicker fingers, “Yeah little bro... but I think we need an extra little punishment for you, for being such a fucking creep.” I make Red pout, sucking on his index finger while he continues “ How about your weird roommate jumps inside you and sews himself into your insides. How about he go even further and actually become your insides. How about he actually becomes you... How about your hot Big Bro make it permanent” I cackle maniacally as Red while Kyle’s face shifts into the dirty sneer I make us wear.

I parse Red’s mind for his reaction. It was from this point that he realizes just how far I went with Kyle. How much I became him. He relents at the matter, equally angry and aroused, finally understanding that Kyle was the one that took possession of him. Kyle created the plans to corrupt the frat. Kyle was the one did these heinous deeds because there was no difference between Kyle and his creepy roommate. Because I was Kyle. 

Red wrestles back control of his body. “Fuck you Kyle, I’ll make you fucking pay for this. When I break free I’m gonna-” I cut him off as I sneer with Kyle’s face, making Red’s do the same as I continue his sentence in moans “-come crawling back because I’m your bitch forever.” I laugh heartily in his voice. Time for that little push. 

In the heat of moment, I let him feel the sheer thrill of having both bodies under control, the sheer thrill of being me, before granting him control over his own body while I resonate within his psyche over the sheer ecstasy. He moans loudly “Fuck yeah... good boy... be a good Little, while dear Red here shows you how it’s done...” He rushes behind my main body, dragging his muscular arms in front of my chest feeling me up. We feel both sensations. Indescribable bliss. He leans in to my ear “we have unfinished business, bitch. It’s all your fault I’m like this... these-these... feelings...” he moans. “This is unnatural... and your punishment... your puppet wants a more” he licks my ear, probing his thick slimy tongue all over while his vascular hands tousle my sweaty hair. “C’mon Kyle. You know this body was built for fucking. Let me teach you how to use it right. Put on my skin- put this brain on. Wear me. Wear your big bro’s stud bod. Put your dick inside of mine. Haven’t-“  he trails off, grabbing his head in anguish “damn it... Kyle, why... why I am I like this...I’m a monster...  What did you do to me?!” Tears well in Red’s eyes, before he catches a whiff of my scent. He goes into a toothy grin as anguish flips to a lustful frenzy. He grabs my rod in his vascular hands, and begins pumping it. He moans as we are both hit with the feeling. “Actually, no... this is good. This feels right. This is correct. I’m not a monster, I’m a fucking god. Kyle you have a decent dick... but haven’t you wondered what bigger was like? I’m bigger. Look at this thick cock. Your big bro’s got you. Come back inside, where it’s safe...” Red slams his sweaty body onto my back, dragging me inside, encasing me in his muscular flesh. He locks his arms under my own, preventing my escape, and I play along, writhing in his grasp as he draws me back, deeper and deeper into him. “I want you squirming inside me when we fuck Jeremy. When we fuck the rest of the frat... I want-I need you to do it with this dick... contaminate them. Inject them with it. Give em a little taste of Red and Kyle.” Inside Red, I sheath his dick over my own, but continue letting him take the lead. “Fuck yeah.. that’s the stuff..” He moans. “FUCK YEAH” he roars, “trying” to push me out of him. I resist, as much as I can anyway, until I can no longer maintain it and am suddenly pushed out of him. ”Not yet, bitch” he murmurs, before his flesh greedily devours mine again, moaning all the while. We repeat this a few times, edging him closer and closer. 

I am paralyzed in bliss at the sensations, but Red maintains a better grasp of his emotions. He walks his inflamed, Kyle-filled self over to the pile of dirty, soccer-drenched clothes on the floor that I had I worn prior to getting into his room. He brings them up to his nose, inhaling deeply. “More...” he whispers... “I need more of you”. He puts them on, huffing in short, frenzied breaths, starting with the dirty  compression shorts I had worn for my game. They are stretched impossibly tight on his ass, and he moans when the waistband snaps back at our shared dick. We proceed with the soccer shirt, thick biceps ripping the sleeves and turning it into a tank. The remains of my dirty shirt cling onto Red’s torso like a second skin, imprinting the delicate curve of each ab, each bicep, and each nipple on to its straining fabric.“Thank you... for the Kyle Sandwich” he whimpers in a trance as his eyes roll to the back of his head and we collapse onto the floor. We smell like my team after a long game. We smell like the forest. Equal parts putrid and petrichor. We smell like ecstasy. His eyelids flutter. “Good little bro”. 

Then, tranquility is broken when he pushes me out. “grrrAHHH FUCk YOU KYLE” he half-shouts, half -moans. I am speechless. My form is again forcibly removed from his- I feel my visage imprint over his own, stretching his taught skin as it wraps over mine. I can see the light of day with my own eyes, and feel my cheeks stretched and melded to his freckled skin. Just a bit more. From behind me, where the back of my head should be, I feel Red’s smile and moan, as he feels my weight above him. He takes his thick arms rubbing them all over me, making sure I was stimulated the entire time I was being pushed out of him. “You got the right idea Kyle- no more deodorant for your big bro Red... we smell fucking better like this” I feel him stir, getting ready to pounce-no doubt to drag me back in. Before I can even say anything, I quickly realize the limits of my depossession. The process of pushing me out of him has slowed to a crawl. As my body continues to be expelled, to be raised out of Red, I am met with my own impossibly tight shirt and underwear, drenched in our sweat and restricting my freedom. The further my body leaves, the tighter we are pulled together by the fabric. We both moan this time. “Fuck Kyle! Get out! Get the fuck out of me!” he play-screams half convincingly, as he does a crunch with me above him. I feel the crunch from behind and he forcibly worms my own form back inside him. I pass out at the sensory overload. 

When I awake, I awake in Red. I walk to the mirror and see his face as my own. In split second intervals, my Kyle-self stretches out his skin and attempts to leave before it is pulled back. We are tight. Nauseatingly full-impossibly so. By all accounts, Kyle’s body should have been expelled from Red after being inside this long-possession doesn’t usually last this long, but my little fighter, my Big Bro Red will not let me go. We are held together by my own clothing and his sheer will. Partners. Amalgamate. Corrupt. I quickly take control and feel his voice in the back of my mind, screaming at me to get out- again, only half-convincingly. For all his perfection, Red really needed some acting lessons. I begin to feel the effects of being stuck in his body for so long, as a lightness and a numbness washes over me. Yet in that same vein I feel indescribably close to him, with a hyper-awareness of Red’s body. This can’t last too long, I assume, as both of us have long since hit our limit. I throw up involuntarily on the floor- it’s all just cum. 

Instead of stopping, the previous process repeats again. Our little possession dance happens again and again and again after that until we are utterly drained. We live as one Red, constantly in turmoil in the inside and perpetually in heat. Finally, a full three days later, we are both satisfied. I finally truly break from him as a lone Kyle. For one, I fucking smell, but also I am still a student. This whole experience had been immensely tiring. Still, I felt a sense of peace, in knowledge that new-Red would never leave me. 

———

Though I initially wanted to fully take and possess Red, to use his body as a mindless puppet for my own, I kind of like our current setup. I moved into his room the very next day after our little break, much to the annoyance to the rest of Sig Chi. Red moans all the time when I possess him- he’s not particularly quiet about it either, and he begs for it every other day, before berating me when I actually follow through. Our “incestuous” nature is pretty clear to the rest of my frat brothers but they awkwardly avoid the subject. Jeremy is the only one that’s visibly pissed- guess we’re breaking every law in frat code or something. Whatever. If anything, they’ll all be seeing the light someday soon- and we have something extra special planned for Jeremy anyway. 

I like to keep Big Bro Red in a pendulum state, between full autonomy and full possession. Even now, he constantly ‘fights’, attempting to push me out of him in vain and then dragging my ass back inside. To be honest, I find this whole setup kind of hot. I sure he does too. We’re always wrestling for control inside him, even though we both knew he was mine forever. I’ve extended the offer a few times to just jump into someone else in the frat or even leave forever but he always throws a big fit about it. Maybe he liked by puppetted by his little bro. Maybe he liked the fight. Maybe one day, I’ll actually fully take him. Of course, for now his red hot body runs a little warmer these days from our constant little dance. For now, I’ve been just been having fun, jumping in and out of him, swimming through his insides. We’ve been meaning to share too, naturally. There are some others on my mind- Red’s best friend, the Sig Chi president Jeremy- who we both agree that hot, dominant ass would make a for lovely little body to wear. Before Red, I was fine as just one person. I am forever grateful that he was my chrysalis, that he first full possession as Kyle. Because he helped me realize a king needs subjects. One day, I’ll take them all- every last hot piece of ass in this school. But for now, I’m content with occasionally just controlling and wearing Red, just wearing my proof of authenticity as Kyle.

—End Part 3—

Phew. Next story’s probably gonna be a bit lighter.

[youbloodymadgenius]

Happiness is Everything (Modern!Ivar x reader)

A/N: This wasn’t requested; I needed to give my boy some love, and a strong bond with Hvitserk. It’s nothing but a silly comfort fic.

@geekandbooknerd​ - Thank you for beta reading this for me 💖

@zuxiezendler​ - Thank you 😉🌸 (and you know why)

Let me know if you want to be tagged 😊

Summary: Ivar doesn't want any more set-ups. Hvitserk’s stubborn girlfriend disagrees.

Warnings: a tiny bit of angst due to Ivar’s temper and insecurities; an obvious lack of plot; lack of creativity; fluff+++.

Words: 2575

Stifling a hiss of pain, Ivar flops down on the couch, leaning his crutch against its armrest. 

 "Here." Hvitserk joins him, handing him a beer before gulping a long sip of his. "So, brother," Hvitserk's face is slightly crumpled as he looks at him, "There's a last-minute change." 

 With a tight-lipped expression on his face, Ivar frowns. He hates last-minute changes with a passion. "What are you talking about, Hvitserk?" He asks curtly while massaging his right thigh absently. 

 "Thora will be with us tonight." Hvitserk shrugs, his discomfort obvious. 

 "Okay." Ivar tilts his head, confused. Every Thursday night, he and his brother spend the night together. Usually at Hvitserk’s place, eating frozen pizzas – a lot of them, Hvitserk being Hvitserk. Most of the time, Thora, who enjoys spending time with her friends, leaves them alone. Sometimes she stays home though, and honestly, it's fine. The truth is, he likes Thora. She's smart and funny, and uncomplicated. Sure, he didn't warm to her right away. It took time. But now, it's okay. He probably won't say it out loud, but yeah, he likes her.

 "So…" Raising a brow, Ivar takes a sip of his beer, "It's no big deal." As Hvitserk keeps silent, Ivar scrutinizes him. His brother is clearly nervous and not at ease at all. Ivar slowly licks his lips. "What are you not telling me, brother?" He knows he's right when Hvitserk lowers his gaze.

 "Well…" Hvitserk clears his throat, "She won't be alone."

A wide-eyed look on his face, Ivar snarls, pursing his lips. "What does that mean, Hvitserk?" The icy cold tone of his voice matches his hard stare, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his hands into fists. 

 Hvitserk winces, "You know what it means, brother," before taking a seat in the armchair across from Ivar, the small coffee table between them suddenly highly appreciated. One can never be too careful when facing Ivar's anger. 

 "Are you fucking kidding me?" Clenching his jaw, Ivar bangs his fist on the table, and Hvitserk immediately leans forward, catching his brother's beer just before it falls down. 

 "I'm not, Ivar. Listen, I'm sorry but Tho–"

 Ivar cuts him off, running nervously his hands through his hair. "I can't believe it! Remember the fiasco with Thora's cousin? And then with her colleague? What was her name? Livia? Lisa? See, she didn’t even stay long enough for me to remember. Anyway, I thought I was pretty clear after that, wasn't I? Maybe you and your girlfriend should go and check your hearing, what do you think, hm, brother?" His voice dripping with sarcasm, Ivar gives Hvitserk dagger eyes, his pointer finger tapping the side of his head. "No more set-ups. That's what I said, right? Sounds pretty clear, huh? Do I need to tell it again, brother? Look at my mouth, I wouldn't want you to miss it this time,” He points to his lips then in a sarcastic manner, “No. More. Set-ups. No. More. Blind. Dates." Bottom lip quivering, Ivar, who's boiling mad, struggles to hold back his anger.

 "I know, brother…" Hvitserk swallows, rubbing his hand over his face, "but you know Thora means well, don't you? I briefly met Y/N once and honestly, she seemed nice enough. Plus, Thora's not really setting you up. We'll be together, the four of us, here, just eating pizza, it hardly counts as a date, don't you think?"

 Disgruntled, Ivar heaves an exasperated sigh, his nostrils flaring. "Stop playing dumb, Hvit, and don't tell me you've never heard of double dates!" He stares at his brother, his pupils dilated, shading his eyes darker blue. "Anyway, it doesn't matter." As he reaches for his crutch, a scowl on his face, Hvitserk stands up, his brow furrowed. "What are you doing?"

 "Isn't that obvious?" Ivar mocks him while adjusting his legs in front of him. "I'm leaving!" Shifting his butt forward, he laces his left arm through the metal loop of his crutch, places his right hand on the coffee table, and then slowly hauls himself to his feet, grunting and swearing under his breath. He has a false start, where it seems he's going to fall right back onto the couch, but Hvitserk catches him skilfully, gripping his upper right arm. As soon as he's sure his baby brother has found his balance, Hvitserk releases his arm and Ivar gives him a tight, thank-you smile. 

 Hvitserk barely nods, as if nothing happened. And gosh, Ivar may be mad at him about this stupid set-up-non-set-up thing, but right now he's feeling mostly grateful. His brother not making a big deal out of his struggles never fails to amaze him.

With any other of his brothers, it wouldn't have been the same. 

Bjorn would have looked at him as if he were an utter failure, and then maybe helped him – out of pity, Ivar is sure of that – but not without paternally patting him on the shoulder; or even worse, on the head. The thought makes him cringe and he shakes his head, chasing it away. Bjorn is no longer around anyway, busy traveling around the world with his fourth wife. Or maybe it's the fifth? Ivar lost count a long time ago. 

 Sigurd would have kicked his crutch out from under him while Ubbe would have forced him to sit down, hovering beside him for far too long, afraid he would slip or stumble, or break a bone. Between Ubbe and Sigurd, between plague and cholera, Ivar is honestly not sure which one is better. Or worse. After all, it's all a matter of perspective. 

 Fortunately, Hvitserk – his favourite brother, and it is no coincidence – never treats him differently; never belittles him; never mothers nor smothers him. With him, Ivar feels like he's normal.

 Gratefulness flooding his mind, a pang of guilt suddenly hits him. He knows that if he leaves, he will put his brother in a difficult position. Though his resolve remains unshaken, Ivar puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, and when he speaks again, it's in a softer voice. "Listen, brother, just tell them I cancelled because I wasn't feeling well, okay?"

 Technically speaking, it's not even a lie. Today has been what his beloved mother would have called a 'bad leg day'. The pain coursing through his lower limbs worse and the muscles stiffer than usual, his right leg barely moving due to its swollen joints, he had taken a double dose of painkillers earlier, regrettably with little to no effect.

 "Well, brother," Looking out of the window, Hvitserk grimaces, an uneasy grin on the corner of his lips, "I'm afraid it's too late." 

 As if on cue, the door busts open and a girly chuckle can be heard. Ivar clenches his jaw and tightens his grip on the handle of his crutch. As you and Thora take off your coats and shoes in the doorway, Hvitserk mutters, his mouth on his brother's ear, "Behave Ivar, please. For my sake." 

 Ivar snorts, exhaling deeply. "I'll try." He closes his eyes and, shaking his head, he mumbles, fighting a lump in his throat. "It's… It's not that easy. Fuck Hvitserk, you don't even know…I wish I wasn’t so angry all the time. I… I might have been happy." His voice, barely a whisper at this point, cracks at the end, and he hates himself for that.  

 Astounded, Hvitserk isn't even sure he heard right. There's no time left to ask Ivar to repeat himself though, so he somewhat haphazardly decides to comfort him, nevertheless. "You'll get there, brother." He eventually breathes, still stunned by his brother's unexpected admission.

  "We're coming!!" Unaware of the tension in the room, Thora shouts enthusiastically before crossing it in two long strides. All smiles, she joins the brothers, winking at her lover and squeezing his hand, and gives Ivar a peck on the cheek followed by a wholehearted hug. She then steps away, gesturing toward you as Hvitserk wraps his arm around her shoulders. "Ivar, this is Y/N."

 Reluctantly, Ivar looks in your direction and the moment he sets his eyes on you, his breath catches in his throat and he knows he's screwed. Already smitten. Gods, you're glowing and insanely beautiful. He barely hears Thora's next words. "And Y/N, this is Ivar, Hvitserk's little brother."

 A beaming smile on your face, you wave at him before taking two shy steps forward. "Hello, Ivar." Even your voice is wonderful, sweet, and silky, and he can't help but smile back at you, annoyed with himself for being so weak. 

 Even if he can see the sparkle in your eyes as you look at him, even if your smile is devastating, he knows better. 

 It won't last. It can't.

 For now, standing tall in his brother's living room, he's aware you surely find him attractive. With no false modesty, Ivar knows about his good looks, his huge blue eyes his greatest asset. Of course, you must have noticed the crutch, but the crutch per se is barely a turn-off. You can't see his titanium leg braces, which he stubbornly wears under his pants, even if they often bruise the thin and delicate skin of his calves. You can't see his crippling pain, his struggles. You can't see his distorted bones and his hideous legs. You can't see how disabled, how crippled he really is. But he knows that as soon as he takes a step, you'll get a small glimpse, and then the sparkle will leave your eyes, replaced at best by polite indifference, at worst by pity and disgust. 

 Yet, there's nowhere to hide from the inevitable. So, he decisively closes the gap between you and him, leaning heavily on his crutch, dragging his useless right leg behind him, and eventually standing right in front of you, he extends his hand. "Nice to meet you." His gaze never leaves your face, Ivar awaiting for you to avert your eyes, but you surprisingly don't. And as you reach out and offer him a firm handshake, your smile never falters, the sparkle still dancing in your eyes. 

 *** One year later ***

 You stir and turn toward him, your hand searching and finding his chest, and then lay your head on his shoulder. Groggy with sleep, you just mumble his name, eyes still closed, before letting out a content sigh and Ivar can't help but smile; you're so adorable.  

 Wrapping his arm around your waist, he draws you closer, running his fingers along your back and pressing his lips to your head. Rewarded by kisses in the crook of his neck, his free hand settles on your hip, your skin warm and smooth under his fingertips. "Hi," he greets you and buries his nose in your hair, deeply inhaling your scent.

 "Hi." You eventually mumble with a raspy voice, now peppering light kisses all over his broad torso. "What were you doing, my love?" Your eyes flutter open and, propping yourself up on your elbow, your other hand flat on his chest, you offer him a warm smile. There's so much love in your eyes, it takes his breath away. 

 "I was remembering." Ivar smiles fondly at you, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his mouth. "Do you know what day it is?" He asks, gently kissing your knuckles one after the other. 

 "How could I have forgotten?" You scoot even closer, your breast against his chest, your mouth barely an inch from his. "Today is the anniversary of the day we met, my love. That's what you were thinking about?"

 Ivar nods before laying you down on the bed tenderly. He then sits up, running his hands through his hair. "I remember as though it were yesterday, you know? I still can't believe you didn't run away." Sitting behind him, you wrap your legs around his waist and your arms around his shoulders, trapping him in your embrace, in your love. "You stayed…", his voice trembles as he gestures to his legs, hidden under the sheets, "… you stayed in spite of… of them…" He swallows loudly and your heart aches.

 Resting your head on his left shoulder, you shake your head. "No, my love, I didn’t stay in spite of your legs, but because of them." 

 Ivar is looking downward but as soon as the words escape your lips, he snaps his head to the side, a frown flitting across his face, and gives you a confused and slightly upset look. "What do you… What do you mean?" He stammers, suddenly tense.

 Shifting in the bed, you carefully straddle him, tilting his chin with a curled finger and forcing him to meet your gaze. "Don't get me wrong, Ivar. I'm not especially attracted to your legs. It's not some kind of weird fetish. I stayed because of what is in here." You put your finger on his forehead, and then over his heart. "And here. But your legs made you who you are. And you're different. A good kind of different. You don't think like other men. That's what I love the most about you. You're unpredictable; you always surprise me. You wouldn't have been who you are without your legs." A gentle hand sliding under the sheets, your fingers graze his scarred skin. "With two working legs, who knows what you would have been. You probably would have been a presumptuous womanizer like Bjorn. Or you might have been as boring as Ubbe; as careless as Hvitserk; as annoying as Sigurd. You are who you are, infuriating, smart, and stubborn, and, I must say, breathtakingly handsome, and I love you exactly the way you are." 

 Ivar just looks at you for a long time, a small smile playing on his lips. Raising his right hand, he cups your face. "Never stop telling me you love me, Y/N. Please..." You never saw him so willingly vulnerable before, and it breaks your heart – you never want him to doubt himself – as much as it fills you with joy – he trusts you enough to share his insecurities with you. 

 You answer him without missing a beat. "I won't. I love you more than my own life. I love you bigger than the sky and its stars, I love you to the moon and back. I love you like I never thought I could. Loving you is a blessing, a precious gift, the meaning of my life. I love you and only you, Ivar Lothbrok."

 Blinking a few times, Ivar heaves a shuddering breath. Tears come to his bright blue eyes and the expression on his face is unreadable; fragile and strong all at once. He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then closes it. Staring into space, he seems lost.

 Stroking his cheek, you bring him back to the here and now, back to you, kissing his earlobe, his jaw, his neck, before returning briefly to his mouth. "What is it, Ivar?"

 Your lover shrugs, "Nothing, really," and pulls you closer, his hands on your back, his breath on your face, his manly scent enticing you. "Or more accurately…", he whispers in your ear, "… Nothing, yet everything." 

 Not understanding what he's getting at, you keep quiet, just staring at him, confusion obvious in your eyes. He then offers you a mind-blowing smile, and your heart nearly jumps out through your mouth at his next words. 

 "I may be happy. Actually, I think I am."

 🛡⚔️🛡

@honestsycrets​ @lisinfleur​ @waiting4inspiration​ @saldelys​ @gearhead66​ @inforapound​ @readsalot73​ @milkkygirls​ @xbellaxcarolinax​ @shannygoatgruff​ @zuxiezendler​ @a-mess-of-fandoms​ @hecohansen31​ @lonewolf471​ @ivarthebloodyking​ @fuckindiva​ @tgrrose​ @didiintheblog​ @peachyboneless​ @funmadnessandbadassvikings​ @ethereallysimple​ @destynelseclipsa​ @coco2315​ @mlchael-guerin​ @pieces-by-me​

[seancekitsch]

beetlebum: a Klaus x Reader fic, part of the Prize Buck series

Warnings: this is soft im losing my edge. Smut. i mention taxidermy. Theyre codependent but you knew that if you read this series.

Sobriety, or at least harm reduction, takes a toll on Klaus. You notice in the way he flinches at things that for you, aren't there, but for him are very much real. What ghosts he must see, the people who haven't moved on from earth. It flares up a lot when he walks you to or from work; Margie even noticed before you did. Klaus used to wait inside the store for you to finish up, until one day your boss pulled you into the back.

“Listen sweetie, you're a good worker, okay?” she said to you, “But he can't be around on your shift.”

You looked at her, puzzled, and then through the crack in the open door to where Klaus was fidgeting next to a taxidermy mouse scene of the death of Mercutio.

“Klaus? Why not?”

“Hmm,” she hummed, as if trying to choose her words carefully, “The energy shifts when he’s in here. He stirs everything up. I don't like it.”

You were confused, like, was he getting the stuffed mice riled up? But wanting to keep being able to pay rent, you concede. Batty, superstitious old woman, you think.

So you tell him to stop. Not harshly, but for his and your employment’s sake. It sparks an argument he’s still sore about.

Today after work you find him in the bath, calf and foot hanging out of the side of it, his head tilted back as he nurses a joint and rests lazily. Candles from your work clutter the counters and windowsill. He looks peaceful in a way he rarely seems. You almost hate to disturb him.

Carefully, you wiggle out of your shoes and quietly set your bag down before you enter the bathroom, kneeling down next to him and feeling the warmth of the water radiating from the tub.

“Hey babe,” you whisper, and he sharply inhales before he opens his eyes.

“Oh, you're back sooner than I’d thought.” Clipped, short. Final. Fucking... Not this again.

“Should I find another job?” you ask, exasperated, “Is it going to be like this every time I have a shift?”

“No! Doc, you like your job, I just…” he dunks his mouth under the water so you can’t hear him.

“Mind finishing that sentence for me?”

He shakes his head. You only have to shoot him a pointed glance before he spills.

“IalwaysendupmissingyouandIdontwantyoutowalkalone,” all in one breath. You pull up your sleeve and dip your arm into the water, still hot, to grab his hand where it rests against his stomach to entangle your hand in his. You felt bad, never wanting to be someone to exclude Klaus, the one person who made you feel normal for what you’ve went through.

“No fear, Daddy-o. You can come wait outside the shop, yeah? I’m sorry for shutting you out of this.”

Klaus squeezes your hand, then pulls his from your grasp.

“No you don’t— you don’t have to make special cases for me. I’m an adult.”

“But what if I want to?” you ask. He’s the center of your world right now. The one that keeps you sane and sober, the best friend you could ask for and the best partner you could want. Before he can protest, you peel the tank top and bellbottoms from your form and step one foot into the tub between his legs.

“C’mon, scoot,” you beg, and he does, letting you crouch down between his legs.

“Sorry ‘m difficult,” he whispers as he lets his head fall back against the rim of the tub again, “hard to feel numb, you help me slip away.”

You crawl forward, settling now over his hips. You grab his hand again, this time putting it against your cheek.

“Let me help,” you say, “nothing’s wrong.”

And you take his thumb into your mouth. Sucking gently, your tongue swirls around the digit, massages it, takes his finger print into muscle memory. Your cheeks hollow out around his thumb, and his eyes close. Klaus groans, and bucks his hips up into you, hard cock bobbing against you. You let his thumb leave your mouth, lips making a small popping sound as the digit comes free.

Klaus sighs, the ghost of a “you’re so so good to me,” in his sigh, and you shush him.

“Lemme pamper you, Klaus. You're so nice to me,” you say, hand dipping below the water to wrap around his cock. His brows furrow as his face contorts in pleasure.

“You wanna know how much I miss you during work?”

He nods, still not opening his eyes.

“Want me to show you how much I appreciate you wanting to make sure I walk home safe?”

“God, yes,” he moans, and you slowly start to sink down, making sure to catch him and let him enter you fully. Its a beautiful sort of pain to feel him stretch you out, the warm water soothing you as you wait a moment to adjust to the feeling of him.

“Please, love. Please show me,” he begs, eyes opening to meet your gaze, green eyes swimming with lust and devotion. And how could you deny him when he begs so nicely?

You start slowly, rhythmic in your movement, your hips rolling against him as he thrusts and drags against you to come meet your body in its motion. You hate when Klaus gets like this, melancholic and snappy. Anything that it takes to make him happy, to clear away the cobwebs in his head. Watching his face, you can see the ghosts fading away. Maybe you can keep them away for a day or two, a day without him waking up twitching and yelling and apologizing. You're hoping that with each thrust you can communicate to him that no, he never has to apologize to you. You have each other in your worst forms, and in your best at the very same time. Nothing was ever going to be easy for either of you, you realize as he starts to pant, his hips meeting yours more sloppily now, and you spur him on. Your thrusts meet his more quickly, water sloshing out of the side of the tub as you speed up, wanting your ‘petit mort’ as he’s been calling it lately, to meet his. His thumb finds its way back in your mouth as he starts babbling, the sweetest encouragement on his lips. Your tongue curls around his thumb, and he loses it. Hips stuttering, he falls apart beneath you. Its as you feel his release, hot inside you, that your release happens as well. Klaus groans as his hips move slowly, working you through your end as he tries to catch his breath. His thumb leaves your mouth again, but it doesn't go far. His hands cradle your face as he kisses you hard on the mouth, everything he needs in that kiss. Your thighs burn, but its not the heat of the water, just the ache of a good fuck.

He lets you slump against his chest, the water finally becoming tepid. When it comes time to get out, he’ll make a mental note to wrap the towel around you first. To dry you off and keep you warm.

“Thank you, doc,” he whispers against your hair, and his arms wrap around you, big hands smoothing the muscles in your back.

“No more moping, Klaus.”

[theanimeview]

WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT SKATE-LEADING☆STARS (Spoilers)

By: Peggy Sue Wood | @peggyseditorial​

I have said it before, and I will say it many more times--of that I am sure. I used to be a competitive figure skater. It was a long time ago, I had stop in high school due to several consecutive head injuries but I still love and follow the sport (I also still skate, just not competitively). 

When Yuri!!! on Ice was out, I loved it because it showed a lot of the cultural parts of skating. The travel, the personality types (in some cases, though not as much), the publicity, the news coverage, etc. We had cameos of famous skaters, we got to see competitions in a pretty realistic way, costuming, the dance and/or gymnastics that skaters must do on and off the ice, and so much more! (I could probably nerd about all the easter eggs and everything else all day long.) The skating in Yuri!!! on Ice is good too. The sounds are near perfect and the movements, though a bit stiff due to the use of CGI, are accurate. 

THAT ASIDE I think Skate-Leading☆Stars is better. In regards to the culture of skaters, SL☆S falls way short but that’s alright. After all, this is a sports anime set in a high school where sports is an all consuming entity and reality takes a back seat to guys with eccentric hair colors. The skating is what's important here and OH LET ME TELL YOU it is near perfect.

Let’s look at this: 

This is our MC, Kensei Maeshima, doing a triple axel (I think they called it a quadruple in the anime which would mean 4 spins but I counted 3 so I’m calling it a triple for now). It’s the only jump that takes off going forward in skating and is one of the most difficult jumps. All of the movement here is accurate--from the way he jumps up and straightens his legs as soon as possible with arms tucked in to help the spin, to the way he lands with a slight bend of the knee, curving around and throwing out the arms for balance (and flare). 

It’s gorgeous. And it continues. When we see Kensei practicing, we get these shots: 

A Sit Spin ^

Crossovers ^

And a Salchow ^ (I think it is Salchow, but if could be a Lutz--the uncertainty comes from me finding it difficult to decipher which edge he’s on before jumping).

ALL OF THESE are beautifully animated and correct--from the way he pulls his arms in quickly and straightens his legs before bending for the landing again to the way he moves after landing. 

Crossovers are especially good as they help build momentum quickly before jumps, allowing a skater to travel more during their jump. 

And when he falls, you see something else that they train you for in skating--how to fall. It’s literally the first thing I was taught when I began taking lessons. Let me explain--in the gif above where he falls coming out of the Salchow, we see this:

He landed on the correct foot, but was still coming out of the last half of his last turn. His other foot, which is meant to swing out, around, and behind him, before guiding the glide out of said jump, hits the ice at an angle as he lands thus causing most of the ice shaving we see happening to the top layer of ice as his other foot slides out from under him. 

Now, if your feet went out from under you--the first thing that you might do automatically is go to your knees or hands to protect your fall. In skating, it’s a bit different. If you fall, your aim is to quickly move to try and let your butt or thighs take the hit while trying to avoid joints (knees, elbows, and wrists) and head injuries. What does Kensei do? He quickly turns to land on his butt first:

His hand skims the ice, but he moves it up, and off the ice as he bounces:

He then turns during the bounce, aiming to land on his thighs (less painful in my experience, and less risk of a tailbone or head injury as you continue to bounce and slide on the ice). His arm extends outward to avoid hitting his elbow directly on the ice with the weight of his upper body against it, while moving the arm up, placing his bicep closer to the head (which will help prevent his head from smacking against the ice):

Finally, he stops sliding and has, officially, “landed” his fall:

Note how the head is tucked in, resting a bit on the bicep, his elbow is not being leaned against (or broken after this fall) since it is laying flat, and how he is on his side? Yeah. That’s a pretty great fall. 

You’d be a little scratched up after that if the ice was rough and since he wasn’t wearing a jacket/gloves--but you’d probably avoid bruising or any severe injuries. The reason for the fall was probably a combination of the scratched up ice (which he credits), being out of practice, and his need for more muscle training.  Still, AWESOME. He’s doing really well for being as out of practice as he is. 

BUT WHAT ABOUT THE STORY??

Okay--Now that I’ve nerded out about the skating I’ll talk about the larger story.

Kensei is hated by his current team. It reminds me a lot of the hate that was given towards Ren Mihashi in Big Windup! prior to transferring schools. 

Kensei is obviously very talented--I mean, not everyone can come back from being off the ice FOR YEARS and do jumps like that without seriously hurting themselves and falling all over the place. It’s not like riding a bike--it’s more like highly skilled dancing... on blades... on a very slippery surface where you are likely to seriously break something. His team hates him for some reason, and act like he’s not a team player or something but he doesn’t come off that way. Perhaps a bit overly confident for their liking, but he clearly has the skills to back it up and we have proof that he can play on a team since we’re shown him playing basketball in Episode 1 and told that he’s played on and been scouted by a number of other teams at the school.

If they dislike him because of him quitting for a while, I’d say they need to get over it because we learn in the first few minutes of the anime that before Kensei’s last competition he lost both his parents--who were professional ice-skaters--in a traumatic accident. 

In the flashback we see of him as a child, the reference point for why so many of his current teammates seem to hate him, we see that Kensei doesn’t seem to have any friends. In fact, our antagonist Reo Shinozaki is the one seen surrounded by people and other kids. While Reo doesn’t seem to regard any of his peers as being friends or equals, it’s pretty clear that he is at least liked more by the other kids than Kensei who is alone. 

As a teen, Kensei has made several friends outside of skating which we see in the current episodes but he still hasn’t made much headway with the other skaters--though at least one of the older kids, Yukimitsu Mochizuki, is nice to him. Some of the members are obviously mad at him for something and wish he wasn’t part of the team and maybe that’s because of his boisterous personality but more likely its due to something more petty, like jealousy or envy at Kensei’s skill or some sort of lack in communication. (Remember, they were all individual competitors going against each other at one point, and when your friends are also who you actively compete against it can get pretty ugly.) 

That’s not to say Kensei is without flaws. As mentioned, he is overly confident at points and makes careless statements about a few of the other members’ being of lower skill or caliber than him despite knowing that he is out of practice and that they take the sport very seriously. If I was to apply this to my own experience as a former skater, it may be like when I had a falling out with many of my skating friends after I had to stop competing and no longer attended lessons. Many of them, particularly at our young age and level, couldn’t imagine giving up skating for any reason aside from losing life or a limb. Concussions or the after effects didn’t feel real to them (nor to me), and yet the pain I felt doing simple spins or moving quickly left me in pain and feeling like I had just slammed my head against the ice. Some felt like I was quitting just as the real competitions were getting started (entering adult competitions). One friend later told me that she felt like I had quit while I was ahead, “robbing” her of the chance to beat me, as though I would have know that. A few others said that it felt like I didn’t care about them or the sport anymore when I stopped coming to group lessons. Meanwhile, I felt like I was being abandoned and lost now that I couldn’t do the one thing that had consumed much of my free time and focus in life at that age... But it’s okay now, because I found anime. (JK--it all worked out as we got older and talked things through.)

I’m sure that as the series progresses, these combative issues within the team will work themselves out and I’m looking forward to it!

Comparatively, it feels a LOT like the Free! series (you remember that swimming anime we were all obsessed with?), though the focus on ice skating that we see within the series thus far (such as news stories, the number of clubs and schools that have ice skating clubs, youtube-videos, and other media) imply that ice skating is as prevalent there as basketball or volleyball. Which, as much as I’d love that to be true, is simply not the case. It’s fictionalized, obviously, and the story is really laying on the drama pretty thick from inter-team disharmony to a larger rivalry with our antagonist that said antagonist doesn’t even seem to register, think about, or give two hoots towards.

As for the rest of the fictional universe of this world... Uh. It’s a high school sports anime so what do you expect?

Simply put, it’s a standard story for this genre. 

I have not yet read the manga--but I plan to immediately. 8/10 recommend streaming on Funimation.com, and 10/10 on animation (if only for the skating). The next episode comes out on the 10th, so now is a great time to catch up! 

[bibbykins]

So, I just caught up on the mafia series having been offline for a few months (immaculate, as with everything you write) and I have a question if you don’t mind. What's it like when Namjoon and Jungkooks partners interrogate someone together? I want to hear about them wreaking havoc together because we stan strong female relationships

Hi! Welcome back and thank you! And in short? A bloody nightmare and I’m so glad you asked! This turned out waaay longer than I planned but it was fun to write anyway!

Edit: Let me add Namjoon's and Jungkook’s fic for background

Words: 1.7k

Warnings: gore, sadistic women, misogyny sorta (man thinking of woman as a bitch), blood, knives, talk of pain, manipulation, torture, mention of smoking

“Alright, so you won’t talk?” Jungkook huffed at the silent middle-aged man before him, looking at his watch as he clicked his tongue, “Well, I have a meeting to get to.” He shrugged, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Ah, looks like our time with you is up.” Namjoon concealed his smirk.

“Luck you, Seungwon.” Jimin mused, but it almost seemed sarcastic, “Well, do you want to tell us where you funneled the cash? Last chance.”

The man, scoffed, “Or what? You’ll kill me? Leave me here to starve for a night?” He mocked, knowing if he died the money would be lost, and leaving him for a night is nothing compared to the elusive plastic lining the walls and floor of the dingy basement room.

This made Namjoon break into a clean smirk, “No, no, we’ve... evolved.” 

A knock at the door made all the men turn to the thick metal of it as the silver doorknob turned. He expected some lackey to gather the men for a meeting, or really anything other than the smiling girl that peaked her head in, “Koo?” She called and the man in question broke out into a goofy smile as the girl basically skipped inside, wearing a pink sundress with a light green cardigan.

“Hi, baby!” He scooped the girl up, giving her a twirl and a kiss on the lips as she giggled, “How’s my Honey doing?” He cooed as he nuzzled into her neck.

“Good! I got up early today, made your lunch- it’s in the fridge, don’t forget- and Junebug and I met up with the wedding planner to work on invitations and whatnot, she’s such a doll!” She gushed and Seungwon scrunched his nose as the engaged couple fussed over one another. 

He always wondered what made such a ruthless man like Jungkook bend to the will of someone like her. He had only ever seen the elusive “Honey” in passing, never introduced since Jungkook kept his fiancee’s identity limited to him and his brothers. Although he did understand why he hid her away, she was obviously delicate. Seungwon wasn’t even a fighter but he was sure he could break you in half.

Another knock made him roll his eyes as a woman he did recognize sauntered in and he gulped slightly. Namjoon’s wife carried herself with an air of unchecked power, and rightfully so as her husband’s eyes softened as he glided to her, “Junebug, welcome.” He purred as he placed a loving kiss on his wife’s lips, “Having a good day so far?” He asked, genuinely curious as the most powerful man in the country clung to her every word.

Namjoon’s wife was, in Seungwon’s opinion, a bitch. Seungwon was a golden boy, a rising man in the syndicate. He was gaining more responsibilities, and more money, at a quick rate. It was Namjoon’s wife who took one look at him for the first time and whispered in her loving husband’s ear. She never smiled at him or spoke to him. The bitch probably looked down on him, there was a theory that she was in an arranged marriage with the boss as a girl born with a silver spoon in her mouth. Either way, the next thing he knew was an audit was done on all the finances and all of the money he had been stealing was discovered missing.

He grit his teeth as the woman spoke, adjusting her pencil skirt, “Wonderful day, actually.” She grinned, “The wedding plans are going wonderfully, makes me want to renew our vows using that planner.” She looked at Namjoon with nothing but love, “Wouldn’t that be nice, my love?”

He hummed, “Sounds lovely, my darling.” 

Jimin scoffed, “Don’t we have a meeting to get to?” The man rolled his eyes as the couples giggled at him, knowing he was just jealous.

“Right, right.” Jungkook sighed as he turned to his lover, “Your raincoat is in the bag.” The girl hummed as he handed her a suitcase, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She beamed at him, “Have fun at the meeting!” She chirped and he cooed at her before kissing her forehead.

“You know the drill. Be safe, be ruthless,” Namjoon murmured to his wife before they kissed each other, “Call me when you’re done.”

Her eyes flickered to Seungwon for a split second as a malevolent smirk found its way onto her face, “It’ll be quick I’m sure.” She stated simply, “Love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He spoke as the men left the room. 

Seungwon heard shuffling next to him and he turned to see Jungkook’s fiancee, who he only knew as (and was unable to call her) Honey, bending over as she shuffled a clear raincoat over her outfit.

“You’d be wise to watch where your eyes land.” Junebug, another name he was not allowed to call the woman, spoke with sharp eyes catching his, “Honey isn’t here for you to look at.” She sneered and before he could even open her mouth, she cut him off, “So, before we do our thing, would you like to tell us to what account our money is?” She raised a brow and he rolled his eyes.

“And how do you know I didn’t spend it?” He challenged and the woman simply laughed.

She looked him up and down like he was trash, making his skin flare with rage, “You’ve been wearing the same pair of sneakers since we met, have been using the same hair products, and your home and car have remained the same.” She deadpanned and he cursed himself internally, “If you spent it, you’d be dead.” She stated simply, “Now, last chance before things get ugly, where’s the money?” 

Seungwon heard the leader’s women were participating in business, but he didn’t expect interrogation to be something they handled. He gulped, not enjoying surprises or not knowing what exactly they can do. He knew how the leaders made people squeal, but the women? He had no idea. However, he remained silent, jaw clenched as he held his silence and her gaze in spite of the metal clinking next to him.

She raised a brow before clicking her tongue, “You’re gonna make me put on a raincoat?” He remained silent as she rolled her eyes, “Fine, Honey, you’re up.”

The cheerful woman hummed as she walked up to him, face behind a shield and hands with pink gloves on as she held a thin knife, “Okay, so you tell me where the money is, and I’ll stop, okay?” She held up the symbol in her gloved hand before giggling, “Wow, usually it’s just for inside info but now I’m like ‘where’s my money?!’ like a real mafia person!” She turned to Junebug with a childish grin that the woman returned, now donned in a raincoat and patting the woman’s head.

“So cute.” She cooed, “Now, be safe, be ruthless.” She spoke softly and Honey nodded.

“What are you gonna do? Take my finger off?” He scoffed and the way he made the woman giggle unnerved him.

Her eyes landed on him, much darker now as she scanned his form, stopping at his forehead, “Hey mister, you’re sweating quite a bit now. Are you nervous?” She asked and he remained silent, “Did you know stress can make pain worse?” She leaned forward, lips close to his ear and she sniffed lightly, “Uh oh~ we got a smoker!” She sang, stepping back and sinking to her knees, “Nicotine hinders blood flow to joints, making healing so slow.” She pouted and he suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable with the way she glided a sharp knife along his legs, “Okay, here we go!”

The pain was blinding, but the cruelest part of it is that it was not fatal. He never saw where she stabbed him, he couldn’t bear to open his eyes as the pain radiated throughout his body, most concentrated in his left knee. He couldn’t breathe as he focused on not saying a word and heard a chuckle from one of the women, “Didn’t you hear her, old man? She said stress makes the pain worse.” A wicked cackle followed as he pressed his lips together.

“The beautiful thing about pain is that it’s all in your head.” Honey taunted, “The brain doesn’t feel pain, chemicals from it tell you that it hurts.” She explained with a wicked lilt to her voice, “I could be poking you, but if I have a big enough reaction-” She gasped loudly and pain shot through him like a bullet but there was no gunshot, “You’ll cry your little heart out.” She chortled, “Like a baby.” 

“You think I like wearing a raincoat waiting for pigs like you to squeal?”Junebug spoke, “I don’t want to be doing this to you, Seungwon, I really don’t.” Her voice was softer, almost pitying, “But you forced my hand, Honey’s hand.” She clicked her tongue like she was scolding a child, “We don’t like to hurt our family, so why do you like to hurt us?”

He panicked, the tenderness in her voice getting to him, offering solace from pain. This went on for what felt like hours. Each time Junebug would speak, Honey would cease her torture. They were training him, like a dog. They were getting him most comfortable with speaking with Junebug, just so he would salivate at the chance of talking with the woman. Junebug spoke honeyed words about how important he was, how vital he was to their group, making it seem like they were doing him a favor by torturing him. It had to have been a whole day by the time he gasped out the account he put the money.

He was delirious, and mercy was a greater reward than any cashout as the blood from the slit on his forehead seeped into his eyes, “Good choice.” Junebug praised as she wrote down the info, “What’s our time, Honey?”

The girl simply beamed, raincoat off, not a speck of blood on her pristine outfit, “Twenty minutes.” 

[thanatos-drive]

More eds breakup stuff

A friend made me realize the extent in which I have been emotionally been cheated on for years. I've known it, I've been too busy been disabled, mourning my past life and angry to admit it. Because of the untraditional nature of this breakup I have to live with her, until I'm out of school, my only choice, I have no where to live, which is a nice-ity of her but also a lampshade to many issues.

I never confronted the issue with her cheating I became as angry as I did. If I wasn't crying, I was angry. And now that's been held of against me. I understand being afraid of my anger been a thing. But its the ultimate cop out to blame me for my anger when a big source of my anger was been emotionally abandoned and again, cheated on, I cant call her out despite how much of a chain reaction she caused.

The more I keep reflecting on how I've have been talked to, the more I realize how hated and disdained I am. To this day I've been still trying to be friendly, share things. But now I realize that's pointless. I'm insignificant, seen as weak and worst of all useless.

That's the consequence of allowing someone to see you cry for so long, they see you as less. But no more.

Many people have complimented me for how much more I'm doing, pushing my limits. But the truth is that my body is in the most pain it's ever been. I can't put weight on my knees without then screaming. My tendons are so flared up. But I will not give her the satisfaction of seen me cry again. I literally put so much of me on this relationship.

It's nothing but hatred pushing me, I am going to burn out a day soon. But I was willing to kill myself a couple of weeks back. Pushing myself as much as possible for the sake as progress doesn't feel much different lately.

I made the wrong choice with this ex. I shouldn't have moved to a different state for her, abandoned my morals and dated a cheater and allowed her to see me at my weakest... after my last relationship I promised I'd be more open and vulnerable. Big fuckint mistake. She doesn't see me as a man. Why would anyone?

I don't have a good future. But I know myself enough that I have never, EVER been as motivated, productive and ambitious as when I want to either impress someone (usually a girl), or when I feel hatred. I suppose I'm afraid because those two scenarios lead to me doing something self destructive and I don't think my body can take more.

I've been holding back, I'm afraid something will irreparably break like so many things already have if I push. But does it matter? Nothing will ever compare to the pain she has incurred to me by treating me the way that she did. And why wouldn't she? I'm hideous, this disease has made me unsightly, adhd means I can never focus, I'm likely autistic and hard to act in social interactions so I can never make connections or make good impressions and worst of all weak as fuck. I AM the defect I believe myself to be, but strangely enough I also AM NOT the one she's made me out to be.

Let me body break at this point. She is but another in a long line of shitty people. As hard as eds has been its allowed me to be more compassionate to others and more willing to see how I am also shitty, I don't know who I could ever help tbh, but I know what it's like to be completely helpless. I don't want others to go through this. It's my only hope to from now on be better and not do the shit she did to me to others.

But the hatred, I need to hold on to that. It's the only thing keeping me together, God know my joints aren't.

[dontshootmespence]

Flare Ups Can Fuck Off

Summary: Period + Crohn’s = PAIN. Spencer hates to see you in pain, so he helps as much as he can.

Words: 890

Warnings: Nausea, chronic pain.

A/N: This was an anonymous request for a Spencer x Reader where the reader has Crohn’s disease, which is what my babe @heycasbutt​ has, so I definitely wanted to do this one even though my requests aren’t technically open.  

Front end bent over your desk, you reached behind your back to put pressure on your spine, breathing through the pain. “Oh, fuck me. Now I get my period.” Three months without one, and right now, in the middle of your work day, when you’re on a deadline and can’t leave, your period decides to rear its stupid, ugly head. Thank God your boss is understanding.

You pushed away from the desk and attempted to stand. Every joint cracks. Every limb feels like it’s being held down with 50-pound sandbags, but you make your way to your boss’s office despite that, desperate for the relief you’ll find there. “Hey,” he said, welcoming you in after you knock on the door. “You okay?”

“Flare up.” It’s all you could manage. “Can I borrow the ice pack you have in the break room?”

“Absolutely.”

“Bless you, good sir.”

He chuckled as you shuffled out and somehow dragged your feet to the break room before heading back to your desk. With the cold pack nestled between your back and the chair, you settled back into your work, typing away as fast as your body would allow, taking breaks when the pain made you start to shake and the nausea began to creep in. 

For a mid-afternoon snack, you forced yourself to eat some saltines, hoping that they’d ease the nausea, but to no avail. You’d never make the train home.

Defeated, you pulled your phone out and texted Spence.

Hey, do you mind picking me up from work today?

S: Flare?

Yeah, I’m getting my period and everything hurts more than usual.

S: No problem, love. I’ll be sitting outside the office as soon as you clock out.

You smiled through the pain and promised him you could make it through the next couple hours, though you felt like an absolute liar. None of your co-workers had medicine you could take. Your clothes were too tight, dress pants cutting into your stomach. Fuck, it felt like the air in the office was assaulting you. 

Just before the end of the day, you had a vomiting fit in the company bathroom, which left you puffy-eyed and sobbing as you brushed your teeth at the sink with your emergency toothbrush.

As soon as you slipped into the passenger’s side seat of the car, you burst into tears again. “My body is vibrating, Spence. I just wanna be normal.”

He leaned over the arm rest in the center and kissed the top of your head. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I wish I could make it go away. I got some eucalyptus oil for the diffuser though, and it’s already on, so the apartment will smell nice when we get home. We’ll cuddle and watch a couple movies, okay?”

Reaching over, Spencer squeezed your hand and then pulled away from the curb, giving your hand the occasional reassuring squeeze as the tears silently fell. “Sorry, I’m just in so much pain,” you said shakily. “I hate this.”

“There’s no reason to be sorry,” he replied. “Promise.”

Once you finally made it up the stairs, which took fucking forever, you were blanketed by the scent of eucalyptus. Spencer spoke softly, dimming down the lights as he ushered you toward the bedroom. “Put on some of those leggings you love and a baggy shirt.”

“Okay,” you mumbled, doing your best to smile for him. “Be right out.”

When you shuffled out of the bedroom a few minutes later, feeling slightly better already with your work clothes off, Spencer put two pills in your hand and a glass of water in the other. “Sweet, sweet Tylenol.”

Spencer chuckled as you lovingly looked at the pills. Everyone in the office had had something like Motrin or Advil, which made things worse. You swallowed the pills and made your way to the couch and smiled when Alice in Wonderland started. Something nice and crazy and mentally transporting so you didn’t have to think about how much pain you were in. 

Before coming to sit down, Spencer made himself dinner and warmed up a piece of chicken and a small cup of oatmeal for; it was pretty much all you could tolerate during flare-ups. 

He set his food down on the table and went to warm up a hot water bottle for you, placing it between your loose shirt and the couch before covering you with a fuzzy blanket you loved. 

As you nibbled on your chicken, Spencer sat down beside you and pulled you close. “Feeling any better?”

“A little. Can I squeeze your hand when I feel a sharp pain?”

“Absolutely. Once you’re done eating, you can put your head in my lap and I’ll play with your hair too,” he said, leaning over to give you a kiss. “101 Dalmatians next?”

“Yesss,” you replied, finishing up your meal. “Gimme your hand.” One hand slipped into yours, the other into your, softly twirling a few strands around his finger.

Pain shot up from your back and into your head. You squeezed his hand hard. When his finger began to comb your hair, you closed your eyes against the sharp pain, trying to concentrate on Spencer’s soft touch. “Anything else I can do?”

“No,” you said with a sleepy smile. “Just stay here. Lemme use you as a pillow.”

“Deal. Sweet dreams, love.”

[border-spam]

Leech Lord - The writing’s on the wall

Here we go, folks. Heavy time. Big one.

Tonight was just them, happy in the afterglow of laughter and far too much to drink. That calm quiet that falls with trusted company you can be at ease around. It was nice.

She'd assumed he felt the same way from the barely audible whistle of his breathing to her right. Figured that he was relaxing too, enjoying the dull heat of wine numbing his joints and their usual simmering pain. It was good, it felt right, until the peace was interrupted by the clink of his glass as he shifted, and the hoarse, strained whisper of -

" You're gonna leave one day, I know you will. I'll chase you away. You'll get sick of having to deal with me just l-like everyone does."

The groggy cloud behind her eyes dissipated instantly as his threat landed like ice-water, and she clumsily sat forward, wineglass dangling from her loose hand as she stared at him in confused disgust.

" What?... What are you talking about.”

“ Don't put that shit on me, Troy. Don't... don't even fucking dare try to drip feed that self hating poison into who I am. God, what is wrong with you? "

He didn't meet her eyes, still staring at the glass in his hands as he hunched in his seat, like he was about to crumble into himself. Looking somehow so much older and so much younger than she knew he was - like a child carrying the weight of the world. He mouthed something, then stopped. Started again, paused again. Reconsidering what he'd been about to say as his brows furrowed and lips tightened into a grimace.

Chasing what he wanted to express to her, grasping at it futilely, trying to find the right words and stumbling. Same self made snare as usual, tightening around his neck. The same trap he always set for himself, triggering as he stepped blindly towards it.

He sunk a little lower into himself as he wilted under her disgust, hair falling forward and blocking the shame burning across his face.

" I... I'm sorry, Sei. "

By @godkingsanointed​

???: She just drives me fuckin crazy man! She just- UGHH 

??: She's like fire. 

???: Yeah, a hot headed little- 

??: NO. Can keep you warm, safe, give light to see by. But if you don't treat it with respect, it you think that's all it's for, try to contain it, you'll be burned. 

???: I don't think that's all...  I-I respect her!!!! I can't believe you're taking her side in this!" 

??: No sides. Just something to think about. 

???: Ughhh, screw this! 

(Sounds of a door slamming shut)            

(A few moments of silence) 

??: I know...He's gunna burn her out. All of us.  

(Ding of a voice message being received) 

???: Thanks. For listening. 

??: Ha..we got him thinking. 

By @hieroglyphix​

S: Wh- Ven?! what the fuck are you- how the fuck did you get in here? 

V: Aw c'mon Sei, is that any way to treat a guest? I get that you're a bigshot s-saint and all but c'mon-- 

S: Last time I checked, people who break into other people's houses are considered burglars, not guests- and get your fuckin' feet off my desk!

V: Hey now, just cause I broke in doesn't mean I stole anything. Im more of a buddy, paying you an....impromptu visit! Yeah! 

S: ( sigh ) God, forget the semantics of it all, what the hell do you want? 

V: It ain't about what I want, I came here 'cause of what you want. 

S: ...Pardon? Oh God, tell me this isn't some kind of-

V: Waitwaitwait it ain't like that, S-Sei, you know i don't run that way anyhow. I came because you need a s-sign. 

S: ...A sign. 

V: Yeah, a sign. s-see, I know what you're planning on doing, I've seen it all laid out in the path ahead of us. But you're draggin' your feet too damn long, and it's only gonna get worse from here. so Sei, listen to me, I'm your sign. Get the fuck out of here, and don't look back for nothin'. 

( silence )

S: So, let me get this straight. You broke into my house, just to....tell me to leave?

V: Well when you put it like that it doesn't sound super great, but...yeah.

( silence ) 

S: Who else knows about this? 

V: Only me, and I ain't about to rat on you. I don't blame you for wanting out, things....well, between you me and the floorboards, things ain't gonna get any better around here. 

S: ( deep sigh ) Good God... 

V: Look doll, I ain't here to force you into a decision, and I won't judge you for not leaving. I'm just tellin' you which way the wind's blowing. One friend to another. 

S: Right. 

( uncomfortable silence )

V: Well, you think on what I said. I've gotta get home to my brother, it's spaghetti night. 

S: Try not to let anyone see you on your way out, the last thing i need is more brainless gossip out on my hangar. 

V: Heh. Not like they caught me on the way in, not exactly the sharpest tools out there. Anyway, nighty night Sei.

( the maglock doors hiss open )

S: And Ven? 

V: Yeah? 

S: ...Thanks. 

V: Don't mention it. 

[end echo log]

I’m just a bit shook up…” her voice cracks as she mutters. “He said some stupid shit tonight, bout how everyone leaves him and he knows it’s..” she sighs, letting her head drop to face the table with a weak shrug.

“Stupid as in.. it got to me. He ever say anything to you that’s just.. you know it’s off? I sometimes think it’s me..”

JK waited patiently, wanting to reach out and rest a hand on her shoulder but not quite knowing if that would overstep their tentative friendship as it formed.

“…that I’m going crazy and feeling things that aren’t real, overreacting…” she pauses, swiping her auburn hair back from her forehead, thumbing at her temple as she lets her eyes stare unfocused at the wall behind their shoulder.

JK grunts thoughtfully, then shakes their head a little, their mask tilting downwards as they rumble out a huff of air. “He’s… talking a lot more recently, yeah, bout things no one asked.”

They empty the bottle in a deep dreg, and lower it carefully to the table in front of them, spinning it slowly on its edge. “Like he’s replyin’ to a question that was never said, and he’s pissed about it. Gets snappy at nothin’. Gets angry at nothin’. I don’t say things, I just listen. He likes when you just listen, I think you know that too.”

She nods, watery eyes looking up at them through her thick eyelashes.

“It’s just, the thing’s he’s saying now, this last year?” JK glances to their side again, towards where Troy sleeps.

They turn back to Seifa and reach out then, touching a finger against her forearm as it rests against the table, happy to see she doesn’t flinch away even though she’s hurt too. Proud that though she’s struggling to hold back tears that swell along her lash-line, she’s still listening to them. Really listening, like what JK thinks matters.

“It’s the same kind of things axe-hands I knew in the clan would start to say before they’d go wrong. Harsh things to themselves, about themselves, about how others were seeing ‘em. I don’t like that kind of talk much either, I’ve seen where it goes. People start doing that and they aren’t themselves for much longer. Become the same thing they were worryin’ everyone already saw them as.”

They turn the bottle to its side, idly twirling it with their index finger, only the hollow grind of the glass on the table filling the silence.

“I’ve seen him goin’ the same way. Same way they did, and I don’t know how to stop it, I’m not good with..” they gesture at the bone-white mask still marked with that crumbling splash of old rust-red blood, pausing to collect their thoughts. “..Not good with talking the way it would help. Saw him hurt acolytes the last few months. He used to just grab, threaten…”.

Their leg bounces beneath the table, nerves firing haphazardly as they swallow down the frustration lodged between their teeth. “Now he grinds. Cracks their bones in that metal fist. Not enjoyin’ it, not laughin’, but doin’ it anyway. He smells like bitter antiseptic sometimes, and I think he’s takin’ things out on himself where he figures we won’t know, under the steel.”

“I don’t think he is well. Inside him. None of us are here, lady. We’re all broken a little, but we learn how to live with it. It’s that or die. He doesn’t know how to do it. We gotta…”

“… we gotta watch out for our brother”.

By @godkingsanointed

He'd dare let venom drip about Seifa around them, and Troy knew from the palpable atmosphere change that it wasn't going to be swept under the rug. He would have crumbled, he would have backtracked into sickening apologies, but after the grilling Tyreen had already given him? How helpless and powerless he already felt, child was the straw that broke him.

He span on his heels to face them, spinal implants flaring and eyes all cruel angles and rage. It only took one or two stalking steps for them to be at odds face to face, not that he was sure what he'd do when he got there.

"The fuck was that pal?" He seethed, letting jaw plates click and flicker. They didn't seem intimidated, too full of fury to even care.

"Ungrateful. Fucking. CHILD. She made you, made both of you. Without her, you'd be skag shit right now." They paused to look him up and down before continuing. "Instead of a shit eating skag."

His reaction was instant, flesh hand snapping forward to grab at the decorative chains around their neck he'd gifted them, pulling them close. "You fuckin-" he choked, mind clouded on what to do. He wanted to smash them to bits, he wanted to pull their fucking head off, but he had enough control yet to hesitate.

"If you wanna spar big man, let's go. You know the rules." They spat. They'd set out a few of them a couple of months back, not really thinking it would come to it, more so sharing a part of clan life so he felt included. Clan members could fight out frustrations, as long as it didn't go so far as to lose a body for raids or hunting. No using the prosthetic, no hitting Troys left side, no weapons. That was what they settled on, and now staring him down? They didn't like the idea of fighting him, of fighting any family. Never had. But if he refused to talk and instead was intent to act like this? They could find some satisfaction in landing a hit or two. 

Mention of that past conversation seemed to snap him out of it, hitting home just how far JK was willing to take this. They didn't care about title or siren status, as far as they where concerned this was a family matter. And as far gone as he was, Troy had no intention of full on brawling with family. He pushed them away as he let go, face burning in shame and frustration as he backed down. 

"Not worth my fucking time..." he mumbled, storming away and letting a metal fist impact a wall as he went,one final show of force.

They stayed put after he was gone, head tilted back and taking deep breaths as they steadied themself. Seifa...didn't need to know about this. She hardly needed defending and she'd scold them for almost coming to blows over a few nasty words but...They couldn't have just bitten their tongue either. 

Ven - "I mean boss, have you considered ever actually thinking about what you want?" 

Troy - "..." Troy - "...Everything. All the time. I want e-everything. Everything. Everything I see, all the time. The way you love Eli, and the way he smiles at you and it's real 'cause he knows how to love, I want that."

Troy - "...I want it, and how Sei puts her arms around all of you and never me but she looks at me and I feel s-something but I don’t know how to say it in words, I want that."

Troy - "...I want Jak-Knife and the way their mask a-and their face - both of them are beautiful and better than anything I can pretend I see in a mirror and I want everything all the time, Ven, and I don't even know if it's me that's actually wanting."

Ven - "Right..." Ven  - "...Ok bud, so first of all, I'm going to get us some drinks..."

By @godkingsanointed​

-- Uroboros log - M0noli7h / S0litar3 prsnl e-dev com msg log //Private Line - SAVED-  blame=GKT -- Machina: So Adalphus is where you’re saying is the best bet.  Aurum: Simple logic. Close enough to Pandora for you to still perform your role, far enough from.. well. What you need to be far from.  Machina: Feels apt somehow, ending up wasting away on some off-world base. Never did belong here, huh. Aurum: A feeling I understand better than I’d like. Regardless of our personal opinions you’ve been one of the few colleagues I’d describe as competent, A’Rosk. It’s a reassurance to know you aren’t abandoning your position.  Machina: Mutual on that, Sol. Staying on isn’t by choice though. I’m sure you know that too. You remember Fragor.  Aurum: I remember what was left of her absolutely ruining a pair of Ausler dress shoes, yes. You’re going to be hounded. You know that. Machina: I know that, I’m just praying it will be gently. The Crusaders are under Troy, and Troy..  Machina: I Machina: I trust Troy

Aurum: That’s your prerogative, regardless of how stupid. Machina: Thanks, you nasty shit. So you’ll manage the fund movements once I’m out, keep the flow going to the accounts I gave you? Aurum: Yes, yes. Not exactly work deserving of my touch, mind you. Junkers leave residue. I prefer to keep my hands clean, Seifa. I’m sure you appreciate that, considering this deal.  Machina: Ohhhh absolutely. You scratch my back, I’ll stab yours.  Aurum: Cute. I’ll manage your assets this side, and my little history with those slag shipments to Elpis will remain off your people’s raidar. Machina: That they will. Solomon, much as it pains me to say this, it has been a pleasure. Thank you. For.. for everything.  Aurum: Not needed, Seifa. It’s just good business. [end log]

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains / Misc x Reader || Drabbles

Plot: You accidentally summon Beetlejuice because he convinced you that he could help you with your Slasher problem, but he becomes an even worse problem. So, you need your Slasher to help you exterminate him, instead.

Includes: Chucky / Charles Lee Ray and Freddy Krueger

Warnings: It’s got nasty gremlin man in it (Meaning, gross language, dirty jokes and such), and also Slashers (Meaning, gore, swearing, course and suggestive language). Groping (Himself) 

Notes:

Okay, those of you who were with me at MainstreamBaddies; You remember that post I wrote about some rando killer trying to get the reader, so reader goes to the Slasher that’s also trying to kill them for help?

Well this is basically that but with (Movie) Beetlejuice as the rando.

THERE WAS MEANT TO BE MORE CHARACTERS!! But its late and I wanna slep ^^ Hopefully I’ll do Ghostface and Jason tomorrow! 

~~~

THE START / ‘Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice’

“So… “Worrying my bottom lip, I look from the wall where I can think properly to the small, ‘fun size’ version of ‘Beetlejuice’ who’s looking expectantly at me. Excited even. 

Although I guess that’s a given. If I was that small and had the possibility sitting right in front of me, of growing back to full size, and full power again, I’d be jazzed too. But, still, there’s something very off about this guy, and it isn’t just the fact that he’s the size of maybe 2 thumbs snapped off at the knuckle and taped one on top of the other. He’s very enthusiastic.

In a Gollum-Swamp Monster-Chick Hicks kind of way.

“’So’, what? I don’t have all day baaaaaay – well, I do have all day. I got nowhere to be – not many fun joints for a guy to go to at this size, amiright? Yeah, but, that’s not the point! Do you wanna get rida’ your lil’ problem or not? Eh?” Beetlejuice is practically vibrating, like an alarm clock and I have the most impulsive urge to call his name three times just to stop it.

Luckily, I have impulse control.

“Of course, I do. I… “Eyeing him pointedly, I start wringing my hands. “I just don’t want to create a new problem, in its place.”

He rolls his dark, feral racoon-panda eyes, muttering something lightning quick to himself before throwing out his arms and yelling. “BABE! I promise ya, really, sweetheart. Baby-lemon pie-dumpling-doll-dollar-sugar-tea, I’m just gonna fix your problem! All I want in the world right now is t’ cum-plete our deal! Get rida’ your Slasher, and be on my way! Unless theirs somethin’ else you ask of me, eh? When I’m back to my normal size? You know, I’m big in all the right places sugar tit- “

I took a deep, necessary breath in when he started on the ‘something else’ and now have the required breath to drown out the last words. “Oooookay!! I wont need that.” I say quickly, as a statement. He licks his lips. “But, um… Are you sure you can get rid of them?” ‘Them’. The bane of my existence right now. The co-star in the horror movie of my life. That them.

“Trust me, babe-sickle. It’ll be sinch.” For a moment, he looks absolutely calm. No vibrating, no yelling, no talking really fast. And it hits its intended mark – my assurances. Okay.

“Alright.” I wring my hands one last time, then clap them and step back from the town diorama that Beetlejuice is roaming in. I cross my arms, then drop them to my sides and look around, then finally back at the impatient ghost… who’s doing squats. Good grief, how much energy is in this guy? “Beetlejuice.”

He gasps, jumps up to his feet, nearly falling over because his weight landed wrong and then rubs his hands together. “Here we go!”

“Beetlejuice.”

“Oh. You do it right, babe.”

Oh my god, here we go. Hopefully this can’t make my situation any worse- I mean, I am being targeted by a killer. What are the odds that this goofball of a ghost could ruin my life anymore? “Beetlejuice.”

“PRESTO!”

Human! Chucky / Charles Lee Ray – Chucky’s POV:

I figure this is going to be a pain, when a screech tears from the ugly old house before I even get in. Confused, and more then frustrated because this spells out nothing but problems for me for when I get in, instead of the nice peaceful kill I was intending to enjoy, I open the screen door -bitch didn’t even lock the front door, it’s like she wants me to kill her,- and rush up the stairs to where the sound came from. “Hold on, I’m not there yet!!”

What the hell is going on?!

“Look, in my professional experience, the screamin’ doesn’t start til the killer takes out a knife, sometimes even before but not before I even get into the house, lady. The audacity of you, here- “

What am I looking at here?

In front of my eyes, my fucking eyes, stands of course Y/N, my victim. And some kind of zebra - one that’s been dead and left out in the swamp for a fuck-long time. He’s got crazy eyes if I’ve ever seen them, and have you seen mine? That’s saying something. Who is this joker? In my coat, I grip the gun I keep just in case strangulation goes awry, but don’t bring it out just yet. Not until this guy reveals his cards, first.

The guy’s eyes flicker in smug amusement from my face, to my gun pocket -evidently, he realises something’s up. Can’t blame the guy, damnit, -, then whips right around, leaving his back wide open for me and my weapon, to my facepalming victim. I smirk at her. “I take it that’s the guy you want rid of, toots?”

“Uh… yeah… “She looks adorable and awkward. The guy lets go of her waist, which he was holding close to his body as she leaned away before, when I walked in and he literally, and I’ve never seen any person do this before, halted in his tracks. Stopped breathing, stopped shifting, it even seemed like the history around him stopped for that ‘caught’ moment. And I swear I heard the sound of record music abruptly being turned off come from his mouth.

And for some odd reason, I get the feeling he’s not human. Can’t conjure a reason why, though.

I should be saying this shit out loud, I’m wasted on myself.

Figuring this guy’s been hired to get rid of me, I take out my gun. “Okay, you’re gonna have to catch me up on what’s happening... Oh, no? Well, okay.”

BAM!

A bullet flies across the room and sticks into the freak’s chest, and that is the end of things going my way.

Because the force of the bullet somehow sends him slamming across the room and through a wall in the back. His body goes ‘poot’ down two stories outside and theirs a silence that doesn’t last long enough for either Y/N or I to digest what just fucking happened before the bastard’s grotty fucking hand spiders up my spine from behind. I wriggle out of his reach immediately on impact, because it’s like a real fucking spider, and whip around, waiving my gun- which is useless now, of course.

Games are over.

The guy looks over at Y/N and grins, throwing his arms out in a ‘ta da!’ way. She winces and just narrows her eyes in a glare. “What’d you think of that, sweet cheeks? I got a flare for the dramatic, you know? Ssssexy! Eh?” When she sticks her tongue out at him, for lack of any words to respond to that with I guess -I mean, I, can think of some choice words for the guy, but she’s clearly not as creatively gifted in the art of insult as I have been told I am. But, a tongue out works, - he grins the most fucking horny grin I’ve ever seen and clutches his sack. Her jaw drops.

“Where the ever-loving fuck did you pick crazy pants up from??” I ask, looking accusingly at Y/N. She chews on the inside of her cheeks and looks even more awkward then before.

“Truce?” She asks, instead of answering my question. I’m genuinely curious.

I roll my eyes. “Ughh, fine.”

“Oh well that won’t do,” The guy speaks up again, looking between us and letting his Johnson go, thank god. The boys have to breath! “Baby girl, blossom, light of my FUCKING DEATH! You wound me. riGHT IN THE HEART! Let me show you, sweetgums, why that was a bad idea.”

Her eyes widen, and I suddenly feel real unsafe. “How about you don’t- “

“Watch this!”

He turns to me, makes some overdramatic hand gestures, throwing his back out in the process and momentarily acting like he’s out of order.

Then he whips back into action and shoots me with finger guns,

And then suddenly everything around me looks 4 times bigger then before. Oh, well, its that or… I’m closer to the ground.

Because I’m a fucking doll again.

I slowly look up from the little black baby shoes and the edges of the godamn jean jumpsuit, to the infected condom in black and white grease paint. “… You son-of-a-bitch.”

He chuckles and turns to Y/N, and gives her finger guns too, but the only other thing that happens this time is he winks at her. “Now, baby! Time to get hitched!”

“What?!” She shrieks.

Freddy Krueger – Freddy’s POV:

“I’m going to die of boredom before this bitch catches winks. I’m gonna pummel her with the counting sheep she clearly needs when she gets here.” The corners of my mouth lift up from the deep scowl I was wearing before, at the idea. It has merit.  

Behind me the fine folks of Pompeii run for their lives and a red and green striped Vesuvius explodes molten lava over their little town when I remember it’s been 2 days since she’s fallen asleep. Or found some fucking Hypnocil. Or killed herself. Who knows, really. I have a… deadly effect on women.

But damn, it would be a bummer if she killed herself. I was having fun with her. I had plans.

Have, have. I have plans. I won’t give up hope yet.

An hour, or who knows how long later -time is a human construct and doesn’t exist in the dream plain, - , I’m lying on the ground watching Psycho play in the sky when that familiar tingle rushes through me, telling me someone’s entered my world.

I’m just getting up and brushing myself off, taking my damn time like she left me to wait -besides, I can turn back time and make it seem like I appeared instantaneously if I want to. Time’s a construct, remember? And this is my world. I’m just doing this for me, to make me feel better, - when she comes out of fucking nowhere and nearly knocks me over. Im-ee-diate-ly I open my mouth to ask her why she’s so eager, but she beats me to the punch, causing me sadness.

“Wake up, wake up, wake up!”

Hold on, I definitely think there’s something off here. Don’t I make the fucking demands?! “Bitch- ”

“Wake!”

“-I haven’t done anything to you yet.” 

“Up!”

“Goddamn!”

What is going on here!?

“I’ll do anything you want, just please. Wake me up!” Her eyes are deadly serious, and I can’t help the greedy smile I get at her submissive idea. What could have made her this way? I laugh.

“Ohhh, I’ll think it over. Tempting offer, though~” She lets out a growl and let’s go of me in pure frustration, looks around quickly for something and then lays eyes on my glove. She picks it up, and my eyes widen in surprise at what she does next.

The blade slices through the skin in her upper arm before I can take any control of the situation, and a nauseous feeling suddenly rolls me and she whimpers from the pain of slicing herself open, as the world goes blurry around us and she wakes up- of course, still holding my glove, which is attached to me, so I go with her.

“Fucking he- “

Much quicker than you think it will be, we both turn up back in the fucking reality. She hops up immediately and flies across the room to a first aid box.

I’m just assuming, I mean. Because I don’t make any move to leave the bed at all and just close my eyes and groan, and resist the urge to cry.

I hate this placceeeeeeeeee.

“BABES, YOU’RE BACK!”

Now I resist the urge to scream and phase out of existence, because a man just appeared on the bed with me and called me his babes. Instead, I slowly turn my head to him and sinisterly narrow my eyes- and hope he doesn’t notice my distress from a second ago.

I’m starting to understand why Y/N was so intent on getting back here. If this guy, a dung beetle with… oh, god. Clearly, some kind of terrible illness if that smell indicates anything, was hanging around me while I slept, I’d be… slightly bothered too. If only for the stink!

He squints, and while he does, his hair flickers through the various colours in the rainbow, confused. “Sweetbottom, theirs something different about you. Did you get contacts?”

As a knee jerk reaction, I stab him in the gut with my blades. “Stranger danger, bitch!”

My panic dissolves into glee as I jerk the knives upwards… just to turn back into panic when he starts tearing all the way in half from my stab wound up to the top of his head with minimal effort from me. I gulp, and retreat from him to where Y/N is, taping her bandages securely around her arm. I gesture to the freak who’s padded onto the floor and is zipping himself back together in front of my eyeballs. “… the fuck is that?”

“That’s Beetlejuice, he’s a ghost=

“With the most, baby.” ‘Beetlejuice’ stands up straight and rests his hands on his hips, chest puffed out and winks at Y/N. 

“-What do we do?”  She asks, looking with wide eyes at me. 

What does she think I am? The Fairy Godmother of the dead?? I’m no godmoth-

… I could use this. A slow grin spreads across my mouth. “First, you go over there and distract him.” 

For a split second she looks like she’s actually going to go with it, then looks with furrowed, unimpressed eyebrows at me. ‘Beetlejuice’ makes grabby hands at us, and she starts to look more panicked by the second. “And what will you do??”

I yank the bedroom door open. “Run!!”

[magpiemorality]

Platonic intruality with Remus as Patton’s guardian angel :0? Idk it’s an idea I had that I don’t think I could execute well but I think you could!! If I may add one more thing, could it be hurt comfort? I don’t wanna specify more because I wanna see what you do with it!!! (Okay bye now ily!)

This spiraled into something monstrous and painful and very, very cathartic. I hope it doesn’t hurt anyone to read, do watch the warnings. And remember; it is a story, and not an instruction booklet. Because of subject matter I’ve put a little summary in so there’s more warning about what’s coming!

And to you Chris, thanks for the prompt. It was special to write, in many ways.

The Hardest Fight Of All

Guardian Angel Remus has been assigned to help Patton Abbott, a sweet high school student with a very normal, decent life; nothing easy to spot for Remus to fight. But if the threat isn’t from outside, then it may be coming from within.

Warnings: Mental Health Issues, negativity, Unreliable Narrator, Self-Esteem Issues, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Emotional self-harm, what might be construed as bad handling of an individual with mental health issues, death mention (metaphorical). 

AO3

***

Patton Abbot didn't deserve his guardian angel. No really. He was sure he was nice enough, and he tried to be kind to everyone he could and forgive anyone that did him harm, but he didn't deserve a guardian angel for that! He wasn't in much danger, he didn't have a lot to complain about, with his perfectly normal life and normal parents and normal school. He even had normal friends! It felt selfish to have a guardian angel when he wasn't suffering at all really, and he hadn't earned it through doing anything particularly good either.

His guardian angel loudly, passionately and regularly disagreed, but Patton had yet to be convinced. Remus was lovely, but there were so many more deserving people that needed his help! He was flattered Remus seemed to enjoy being his guardian angel and hanging around with him but it was probably only because he was forced, and Patton was good at acting nice so at least he hoped he wasn't making the angel's job too awful.

That was if you asked Patton, at least. Remus would have a different perspective on things. But Patton hadn't... actually asked him? Because he was so obviously lying when he insisted Patton did deserve his presence and protection, because Patton didn't deserve it.

Over time though, something changed. Remus started to lose his glow, his wings began to droop and he stopped skipping and floating around above the ground, steps dragging heavier and heavier on the floor. Patton was terrified, constantly checking in with him because Remus was too important to feel bad, or get sick, or whatever it was that was happening! Patton had to help him!

When he woke up one morning to find Remus leaning on the windowsill, gazing despondently out at the garden and the rest of the houses he started to really panic. He had to be hurting the angel somehow, but how?! And how could he fix it?!

"Remus? What- what's up bud? You know you can always talk to me right? I think you're awesome, and you deserve to be happy!"

"I'm not so sure."

"You do!" Patton insisted, placing a hand between his wing joints on his back. "You do so much good, you're always taking care of me and you're so kind and lovely and fun and you-"

"It's taken me a while, you know," Remus interrupted. Patton went quiet apart from a soft, questioning hum. "To figure out why I was sent to you."

Ah. "Well it must have been a mistake, like I said before, but that's okay, you can consider-"

"Patton for the love of the sky and the stars; shut up."

Patton shut up, trying not to let the harshness hurt. He knew he'd been babbling on a bit, so it was probably his own fault, and after all even angels only had a certain amount of patience. And Patton knew he was annoying. But it still hurt just a little bit.

Remus rounded on him, eyes alight for the first time in weeks. He grabbed Patton by the shoulders and steered him back to the bed, sitting him down on the edge firmly and moving back to pace in front of him. Patton waited, still conscious of the reprimand, until Remus finally burst.

"I can't believe it took me so long! Honestly, I wasn't sure there was much to do here; you seemed so happy so much of the time, and you get along with almost everyone! Sure there's the odd bully, but its only ever in situations you put yourself into knowing they'll come, like that video channel thing of yours, and I suppose I assumed you realised you could just leave if you didn't want to see it all. You were so nice to them, too nice! But even when I visited them, sorted that out for you, or got you to spend time away from it, you were still... so hurt. And now, now I see the true problem. It's worse than I thought, and I'm- I'm so sorry I didn't see before, but I'm also angry, and it's not at you but it is-"

Unsurprising, Patton thought. That made sense, after all.

"Because the evil that I'm supposed to battle for you... is you."

Slightly more surprising. "Come again?" Patton asked, apologising quickly for speaking up. Remus bared his teeth as fury flashed over his face, flaring bright again for a moment. He looked... terrifying, but glorious. An angel in battle.

"There is no greater threat to you than yourself. And I don't know how to fight that! I'm angry because I'm sad; why would you attack yourself so viciously day after day, hour after hour, word after word and never afford yourself a single iota of the kindness you afford others?!" He stopped, chest heaving, and Patton felt the weight of an expected answer. He couldn't reply, just shrugging, which only set Remus off again. "You, the nasty horrible thing inside you, it's killing you! You feel like you're dying, and you just let it happen. I don't- I don't know how to fight that, I don't think I can fight that, and you just- " He growled, his morningstar appearing, only partially there, for him to swing in fury. "Everything they say to you that you rail against in public, you bite back against if those very words are turned on your friends with no mercy, you say the same things in your own head. You are so awful to yourself, you're just like them! I cant fight that!"

Patton swallowed. "It's not a big deal," he said weakly, heart hammering in his ribcage.

"But it is! And I can't do my job if you're the one stopping me at every turn! You don't even know you're doing it, or maybe you do and just pretend you don't, I'm not even sure anymore. But you desire so much better, why can't you take your own damn advice?! I don't- I don't think you even want to feel better sometimes, you've turned your suffering into so much of your identity. Do you actually like being this way...?" He cut off, narrowing his eyes at Patton suspiciously. Patton felt part of him squirm under that gaze, but another small part was quietly begging for the angel to go on, to finish lancing this horrid, deep-seated, ancient boil of Bad.

"It's not fair!" Remus finished. "You're doing it to yourself! Do you know how easy that is to stop?!"

Those were the words that finally got Patton up on his feet. Because no matter the truth of the rest of it; that was a lie. "It's not easy! It's not!" Thoughts of therapy and mental health diagnoses and the difficult of facing everything alone when it was easier to just suffer and frame it in martyrdom and help everyone and hope, pray that one day someone would help him too.

(And then push it away away away when that same help was offered back, falling into misery when that endless push- desperately testing his friends to their limits because he knew they'd get tired eventually- turned into a self-fulfilling prophecy as they ran out of support to throw against his walls of self-hatred and negativity)

Remus stepped forwards until they were chest to chest, gazing down from his height, fully blazing bright in the innocuous setting of Patton's bedroom. "But it is. If you want to."

Patton sat down again with a thump, feeling faint and nauseous. There was a moment of silence before he burst into tears, pulling his knees up to hide his face in. He wasn't even sure why he was crying. Because of the horrible cruel words? Because he didn't deserve even this harsh kindness (that felt like staring at the sun without protection or touching electricity, raw and painful and unfiltered for his comfort) after how awful he'd been? Because... because it felt terrible to even think about the fact that this could be his fault in some way?! And now Remus hated him just like the rest and he was going to leave and Patton would be alone and-

Two warm, gentle hands came up to cup his face and tilt it back into view, and Remus was there, looking stern and serious but not angry anymore. The relief that flooded through Patton was almost euphoric, like the weight of the entire sky lifted back up off his lungs. "I can't fight this battle alone, Patton," the angel said. "And I can't fight it at all if you don't truly, deeply, one hundred percent want me to fight it. To do that you need to understand that it's your battle too, that you have to put your armour on and go to war alongside me, if we're to have any chance at success. Because right now you're on their side, and you're sabotaging us from within."

"But it's my condition! My brain doesn't-"

"You think I don't know about that?" Remus frowned, rubbing his cheeks gently. "You've got medication. You've got a therapist, you have people who are trying their hardest to love and support you. But you can't survive the ocean on a raft of other people's making. It will stop you sinking, for a time- perhaps even for a long time, but you won't get any closer to shore unless you start to paddle. And as you paddle you'll also have to patch up any cracks in the raft with your own hands, perhaps with the materials you're given but the work to stitch it all together and sail it has to be your own. It's- I'm not a fan of metaphors but do you see? You can't be the only one not contributing to your own recovery."

"I'm not recovering from anything, I just have a negative self image and... and some other things. But they're bad! They're not things you get better from-" Patton tried, voice trembling and weak. Remus just looked at him, hands still on his face.

"Aren't they?" He asked simply. "You don't think you could ever manage to feel better than you do right now? You think all the stories of people improving their lives are... made up? You think, perhaps, that the medication is all a placebo, that once you've labelled the problem it's made permanent and nothing can ameliorate the symptoms or make life easier to live?" The angel leaned in and dropped a kiss to Patton's forehead, leaving a warm tingling in its wake. "The world would burn, if that were true," he whispered, before standing up.

Patton just kept on sitting in silence, face itching as his tears started to dry on his skin.

Remus gave him a small but real smile. "You've got plenty to think about. Consider my pitch; without you I will continue to fight the war, hopeless though it may be, but with you..." He grinned properly then. "Oh the things we could achieve, dear one."

And off he vanished, in a flutter of feathers and the sound of moving light.

It left Patton feeling as though, in the space of only maybe half an hour, the entire world had changed around him. He wondered, as he lay down on his bed, exhausted and reaching for his favourite plushie for comfort, whether what Remus said was what his therapist secretly wanted to say. It was a funny thought, mild-mannered Dr Picani ranting like the passionate angel, but Patton barely managed a lift of his lips. He needed to rest, and then he'd start to think about all this. If it wasn't true, if the angel was mistaken, seeing things that weren't there because of how boring it was being Patton's guardian; then nothing really needed to change except he would renew his efforts to get Remus reassigned.

If it was true though? Then that changed everything, and Patton Abbott would have a lot of hard work ahead.

He wished he knew which one he was hoping for.

-

[themusicalvoid]

Achey:-((((((

[coastaldragon]

Dragon Diary 1/7/21

So...this is my resolution for the year.

I wanted to start a kin-related diary. I found myself missing how often I used to muse about myself and my experiences here, and have long since felt...detached from myself. Stuck in the loop of going through the motions of “human.”

A week late on my first entry, but so it goes.

These entries will just be flow-of-consciousness blabbles for the most part. I’ll talk about any kin-related thoughts I’ve had that day, how I’ve been feeling, how my otherkinity has affected my day, etc.

I have a lot of catching-up to do with you all, so the first few entries may seem disjointed and a little long. Lets get started. This is long. And a bit negative. But hopefully they won’t all be.

cw for death and drug mention and health talk like needles and stuff

I don’t quite remember why I dropped Tumblr like I did. I think I was getting annoyed at all the UI changes, and just overall very busy with “real life.” These things happen. I slowly drift away from a platform. Sometimes for weeks, months, or years in this case. Then I’ll drift back. Kind of like a scrap of wood on the waves.

In the time I’ve been gone life has been...interesting. The source of the stress that caused me to awaken in the first place is gone. He OD’d in...2014? 2015? Some time around there. My grasp of time is worse than ever.

We hadn’t even known he’d be using anything. Turned out he was stealing my late father’s remaining fentanyl supply. One of those guys who preys on widows like my mother. He lied about everything. His entire past as we knew it was a lie. And he was just leeching off of us.

It was...hard. I was the one who found his body upon getting home from work. My mother is still traumatized, even now. Even after all he did. She did love him.

I think all that hardened me quite a bit. And I’m sad for it. I’m still trying to soften myself again, but my trust has never been shattered like that before or since.

My now health is...poor. I had a great job working at an independent pack-and-mail sort of place for a few years. Very laid back, when the customers were nice. Helped me build a lot of strength and muscle. Quite enjoyed showing off by hefting 50lb boxes onto my shoulders. Helped me feel less weak in this squishy human body of mine.

But about...2 or 3 years ago [again, time is a myth to my brain] I woke up and my shoulders were just.

Locked.

It felt like someone had stuck paint spanners under my shoulder blades or something. Not only that, but I was weak. I barely had the strength in my arms to lift a half gallon of milk in the morning.

We thought I’d just hurt myself showing off, somehow. So we gave it some time. Took ibuprofen, used pain creams. Took a few days off work.

But it didn’t get better. It got painful. And the moreso. And moreso. And then my back began to have trouble as well. It was spreading. I felt...ill.

So. Doctors. Tests. More bloodwork than I’ve ever had in my entire life. [10 vials at once for one appt!]

My primary, who is a garbage person I never wish to see again, insisted it was just a sprain. Or something. Whatever. But I knew it wasn’t. My mother knew it wasn’t. Everyone I knew knew it wasn’t.

Specialist time! At the behest of my cousin, who has a litany of autoimmune disorders, we hooked up with a rheumatologist. Who I will call Dr.M. 

Dr.M is an angel on Earth. I am convinced of it. A full year he spent with me, ordering tests, trying treatments, working with me to figure out what the hell was going on. And we did. And what a mouthful it is.

Ankylosing spondylitis. No, it’s not a dinosaur. [Though I do think I’m ‘hearted for ankylosaurines...I don’t think it’s related lol!]

You can look it up if you like. But basically: My immune system is fucking crazy and attacks all the things. Most places describe it as being a lower spine disorder, and while that is certainly where its centralized in most folks, that’s not all it is.

For example mine is, obviously, centralized in my shoulders and upper back. But it does aaaaaaaaaaall sorts of crazy shit. Every day is different. Joint pain, exhaustion, GI trouble, stomach upset, lack of appetite, murderous migraines. The usual for an autoimmune illness. But also wacky shit like costochondritis [painful inflammation of the cartilage of the ribs], random organ inflammation like in my kidneys [not fun], lungs [I had a 3-month stint of chronic bronchitis last winter], and even my heart [very not fun.] Sometimes it likes to attack my “integumentary system” aka shit like my skin and hair meaning I’ll have weeks where my hair just. Sheds. Like a damn cat. It gets everywhere and w/ my long-ass quarantine hair it’s so annoying.

This attack dog immune system does mean it’s unlikely for me to catch little bugs like your common colds and stuff, which is appreciated. But it also likes to maul anything else it deems foreign. Like medication! I took Humira shots for a few months and had a “paradoxical reaction” aka it did the literal opposite of what it was meant to, because the injections pissed off my immune system so much it went scorched-earth on whatever it could. Mostly my thighs, since that’s where the injections were. I still get stabbing pain in them and it’s been over a year. [No, I don’t think I can sue Humira over this. Though I have discussed it w/ my Dr.]

This also means that if I do get sick, it’s bad news. Something strong and unique like COVID? Death. Deaaaaaaaaath. Would likely trigger something called a “cytokine storm” aka my immune system nukes everything and my organs die and so do I.

So guess whoooooooo’s been locked up at home for almost a full year now? :’)

I luckily am able to work from home, though it barely pays the bills, and my health has suffered from a lack of being able to Do Stuff I normally would.

As a result I decided to get back in touch with myself.

It started with Second Life, because of course it did. A new dragon avatar came out. Shiny and mesh and easy [by SL standards] to modify. So me and a few friends [some kin, some not] made a group for sharing stuff for the av and just hanging out. It’s fallen by the wayside unfortunately but those nights spent chilling in SL with a bunch of other dragons roaring and goofing off felt really really good.

And then I made a kin Twitter. [And found some exceptionally cool kinfolk in the process.] 

Then came Othercon the virtual otherkin convention and OtherConnect, the Discord spawned from the community that rapidly formed within the con. Othercon felt incredible. Panels and lectures about the history of otherkinity and alterhumanity and how we are today and rep in the media and just so! Much! Cool! Stuff! And tons of great kinfolk too! 

To not only be within a community but seeing others like me and speaking with them, not just typing back at words on a screen. It was...so very, very reaffirming. It felt like a second awakening almost. I wanted to cry for finally, truly not feeling alone.

And now I’m here. Because I need to be. Because something, deep down, is telling me I’m going to be needing myself sometime soon. So I’d better get started.

I hope I don’t drift away on the tide again. I’ve missed this site, worse for wear as it is.

But I’m a bit tired today. A nasty headache lingering from yesterday’s nastier flare up. Accursed cold fronts. I used to enjoy them but not so much these days. Ah well.

I know there wasn’t much kin talk in this first entry, but as I said, we had a lot of catching-up to do!